Requiem
by moogsthewriter
Summary: Caught off-guard by their captain's sudden death, the crew of the Enterprise searches for answers. The problem? Jim Kirk isn't dead. ::Note about chapter six on my profile page.::
1. Chapter 1

_**A/N**: This story shall be updated __**once a week**_ (every Friday). Thanks to ******zookitty **for the beta. I've messed around with it since she looked at it, however, so all mistakes are mine.  
**Spoilers/warnings**: Anything in the movie is up for grabs. Also trying to stick as close to canon as possible for the show, but I haven't watched many. Most of my knowledge is limited to what I've found on (numerous) Web sites, so if I'm off on something, feel free to let me know.  


* * *

The transporter room was thick with tension as the small group waited near the pad. "Zey're coming now," Chekov said quietly, looking up from the controls, concern etched on his young face.

"If he shows up complaining about a damn paper cut again, I'm going to strangle him myself," McCoy hissed, fists clenching around his medical tricorder.

"I think it's something far more serious this time," Uhura replied softly, eyes locked on the pad as it began to energize. "Spock sounded concerned."

Any further conversation was cut off as the away team suddenly reappeared. All eyes locked on Spock and Scott as they rushed toward McCoy, Kirk dangling limply between them. "What the hell happened?" McCoy demanded, scanning Kirk with the tricorder as the pair lowered the unconscious captain onto the waiting gurney.

"The captain and I were just returning from a tour of the Pilarians' production plant when he suddenly collapsed," Sulu explained, stepping off the pad.

No one missed the blood draining from McCoy's face as he stared at the readings. "I'm not finding a pulse!" he growled, setting the tricorder aside. "Help me lower this down," he barked at Spock, grabbing the gurney. The Vulcan obeyed silently, and together the pair lowered it so that Kirk's body was only a few inches off the ground.

McCoy knelt down and tipped Kirk's head back, pressing two fingers to Kirk's neck before giving him two rescue breaths. "Anyone here know CPR?" he asked as he moved to start compressions.

"I do," Uhura replied, swiftly moving to kneel next to the gurney.

"Then get ready to breathe for him," McCoy told her, looking down at the body beneath his hands. Kirk's head jerked a little every time the CMO pressed down on his sternum. His skin was pale and his lips were a deathly shade of blue. McCoy swallowed hard, voice cracking as he ordered, "Now!"

As Uhura forced air into Kirk's lungs, McCoy glanced up at the others, who were all staring back with panic on their faces--even Spock had concern clouding his eyes. "Chekov, radio Chapel. Tell her to bring the crash cart and get up here now!" He turned away without waiting for Chekov's nod and began compressions again.

"I just don't understand," Sulu breathed as he watched McCoy work. "He fine less than an hour ago!"

As Uhura breathed into Kirk's lungs again, McCoy shifted so he could place his fingers at his friend's neck. "Damn it, still nothing!" he spat, adjusting his hands over Kirk's chest again. "Don't ya even _think _about givin' up on me now, kid," he grunted fiercely, face flushed from his efforts.

Everyone in the room flinched as they heard the sharp sound of a rib cracking. McCoy paused for a brief moment before shifting the heels of his hands slightly and resuming his compressions, inwardly wincing at the feel of the rib shifting beneath his fingers. "Damn it, where the _hell _is Chapel?"

"Here, sir!" the nurse exclaimed as she burst into the room, wheeling a crash cart in front of her. "What's going on?" she asked, eyes wide as she snatched the Ambu bag off the cart and knelt down next to McCoy. Uhura backed away as the nurse placed it over Kirk's mouth and nose.

"His pulse was gone when he got onboard--the tricorder says he was in v-fib right before it happened," McCoy replied tersely, snatching the defibrillator off the crash cart and taking control of the Ambu bag as he set the device on the ground. "Prep him for the defib--we've got to get a rhythm back! See if there's any neural activity while you're at it."

As Chapel used a scalpel to slice the tunic of Kirk's dress uniform open, McCoy rocked his weight back to his heels, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of one hand as he stared up at the group gathered around them. "Y'all need to step back--we're gonna need space," he told them grimly, his Southern twang stronger because of stress.

"Negative on any brain or other neural activity, sir," Chapel announced, setting her own tricorder aside to grab the defibrillator paddles.

The CMO turned his attention back to his patient as Chapel placed the gel-slicked paddles on Kirk's bare chest. McCoy pulled the Ambu bag away as Chapel firmly declared, "Charging. And… clear!"

Kirk's body arched up reflexively in reaction to the electrical current before dropping back to the gurney with a solid _thump_. McCoy snatched his tricorder up, scowling deeply when he saw the readings. "Still nothing. Up it to three-hundred! He's been down too long."

"C'mon, laddie," Scott whispered fiercely.

Chapel nodded at McCoy, making adjustments on the defibrillator while the doctor placed the Ambu bag over Kirk's mouth long enough to give him two more bursts of air. "Charging to three-hundred. Clear!"

The room was silent as Kirk's body rose up for a moment before falling back down limply again. Uhura's hand flew up to her mouth, and Scott had to grab Chekov's shoulders to keep him from falling. Spock's eyes were hard and Sulu's fists were clenched as McCoy moved to scan Kirk again.

"No," he whispered, tossing the tricorder aside and pressing the fingers of his right hand into Kirk's neck while snatching up a wrist with the left. "Don't you do this, Jim--_don't you do this_," he hissed fiercely, lowering his ear until it hovered a few centimeters above Kirk's mouth.

"What about a cortical stimulator?" Spock asked softly. "If we can revive his neural processes…"

Chapel shook her head grimly, voice quiet and thick when she replied, "It does no good if we can't get his heart restarted."

"_Damn it_," McCoy muttered, shifting back to restart compressions. "Chapel, try again!"

"Yes, doctor," Chapel said quietly, adjusting the defibrillator once more. "Charging." She placed the pads on Kirk's chest as McCoy blew in two more breaths and then sat back. "Clear!"

Kirk's body had barely reconnected with the gurney before McCoy was scanning him again. "Son of a _bitch_," he growled vehemently, starting compressions once more.

He glared up at Spock when the Vulcan laid a hand on his shoulder. "Doctor--"

"He's not dead, damn it!" McCoy snarled, cutting Spock off. "This is Jim Kirk. He drives cars off cliffs, gets himself shot, gets strangled, beat up, and a hundred other idiotic and childish things, but he _doesn't die_!"

Spock's lips pressed into a thin line dropped his hand and stepped back slightly. McCoy sent a sharp glare at all of them before resuming his compressions. "You hear me, kid? You do _not _get to die on me! Not now," he muttered, keeping his gaze away from Kirk's too-pale face and too-blue lips.

No one breathed as McCoy continued to work. After another eight sets of compressions and breaths, the CMO moved his head to Kirk's chest, pressing his ear to the area above the captain's heart.

A long, long moment later, McCoy slowly pulled his hand away from Kirk's neck, twisting so that his forehead rested on Kirk's sternum. His knuckles were white as he firmly clenched Kirk's wrist, and his shoulders slumped in defeat. They all flinched when the doctor hoarsely whispered, "Call it."

Everyone stared silently in shock as Chapel glanced at her watch and shakily declared, "T-time of death: nineteen-hundred hours."

_tbc..._


	2. Chapter 2

_**A/N**: I'm a day early. I'm sure y'all are very upset with me. ~_^ I'm going camping tomorrow, so I figured it's probably better to post early than late. Next chapter will be up next week Friday. Also, this chapter is Spock-heavy, which was a little frightening for me, as he can be hard for me to write. Let me know what you think. There's some light Spura in this chapter as well. Thanks to **zookitty **for the beta. I've messed around with it since she looked at it, however, so all mistakes are mine._

* * *

The turbo lift was silent. Spock stared blankly at the doors, remaining motionless even when Uhura lightly gripped his elbow. Chekov and Sulu were each pale, eyes wide as they stared ahead without really seeing what was in front of them.

James T. Kirk was dead.

That simple statement was enough to make Spock's emotions swirl violently. Only his lifelong training prevented him from unleashing his confusion, his anger, his _despair _on the paneling of the lift.

It was simply illogical. There had been no warning signs, no indication that Kirk was anything but healthy. By Sulu's account, one minute he was breathing and the next he was not.

An hour ago, Jim Kirk had been walking along the streets of Pilar on a simple diplomatic mission. Now, his lifeless body was sequestered away on a secluded bio-bed in sickbay.

What had happened?

Uhura's hand dropped as the doors slid open with a hiss. It took all of Spock's self-control to keep from grabbing her hand. It was illogical, but he needed the reassurance that she was still there--that there was _something _he could still rely on to be the same.

The quiet chatter on the bridge faded as the crew caught sight of the four somber figures emerging from the lift. Spock paused as he stepped foot onto the bridge and caught sight of Kirk's chair.

"Lieutenant Uhura… I need to contact Admiral Pike immediately," he finally murmured. "Starfleet… needs to be informed of the change in circumstances."

Uhura nodded once, eyes dry but voice heavy with emotion as she softly replied, "Yes, sir."

Spock hesitated for a moment as the other three moved to their stations. He could hear the soft whispers of the others on the bridge, each wondering (_fearing_) if the worst had happened. He ignored their looks and murmurs as he moved to stand behind the captain's chair.

His chair.

He was captain of the _Enterprise _now. Because James T. Kirk was dead.

Spock's fingers rose up and gripped the back of the chair, knuckles flushing white as he held on tightly. He didn't want to sit in the chair. Sitting in the chair made the change permanent.

He knew it was illogical to think that. He'd sat as acting captain in this particular chair many times over the previous two years. He'd assumed command in the midst of several crises under both Pike and Kirk. There had been times (_too many_, McCoy would say) where Spock had been forced to sit in the chair until it was determined if Jim would survive the latest landing party fiasco. There had never been this hesitation to sit in the chair on those occasions. After all, it was simply a chair, equipped with the devices a captain needed to maintain command of his ship. By all appearances, the chair was just that--a chair, and nothing more.

Except it wasn't. It was the captain's chair. Spock's chair now. Because Jim Kirk was dead and couldn't sit there anymore.

Jim was dead.

Spock hadn't felt such emotion since he'd watch both his mother and his planet die in one fell swoop almost two years ago.

He couldn't even understand _why _he felt this way. It wasn't as if Kirk was his closest confidante. No, that title fell to Uhura. She was the one who knew everything about him--including the way he was feeling now, if her subtle glances in his direction were anything to judge by. She understood him better than anyone onboard the ship--perhaps even better than his own mother. He had always thought that if there were to be a loss as great as that of his mother and his people, it would be her.

And yet Jim Kirk's death had unexpectedly sent him reeling.

"I've contacted the admiral, sir," Uhura called, interrupting his thoughts.

"Onscreen, please," Spock ordered softly.

A moment later Christopher Pike's face appeared on the main viewscreen. "Commander Spock," Pike greeted. "The lieutenant labeled this conversation as urgent. What's the trouble?" He paused for a moment, frown creasing his face as he stared at the empty captain's chair. "Where's Kirk?"

Spock swallowed, releasing his grip on the chair and moving to stand in front of it. "Jim's dead, sir." The words sounded no better spoken aloud than they had in his head.

Pike stared in stunned silence as someone on the bridge gasped. "What happened?" the admiral finally asked. His voice was steady, but Spock heard the subtle tremor in his tone--an indication of his astonished disbelief.

"After spending most of the afternoon on Pilar, Captain Kirk and Lieutenant Sulu took an excursion and visited the planet's starship production plant. The captain collapsed on the journey back from the tour. The away team beamed aboard immediately, but Dr. McCoy was unable to revive him," Spock recited flatly, folding his hands behind his back. "Time of death was nineteen-hundred hours."

"Who was on the away team?"

"The captain, myself, Lieutenant Sulu, and Lieutenant Commander Scott."

Pike rubbed a hand over his face once, the transmission equipment picking up his faint sigh. "And no one else was affected?"

"No, sir. Dr. McCoy's examinations show no signs of affliction to any of the other members," Spock replied calmly. He mentally forced himself to unclench his hands behind his back.

Pike's gaze focused on Sulu. "Any strange mishaps during your tour, Lieutenant?"

Sulu shook his head once. "Nothing happened that seemed out of the ordinary, sir," he answered grimly.

"Do you have a cause of death?" Pike asked after a long moment.

"It appears to be natural causes, Admiral," Spock said. His hands clenched again as disbelief flared deep within the admiral's eyes. He knew Pike was rejecting the news, much as he himself had when McCoy had told him the preliminary findings thirty-eight minutes earlier.

Spock took a quick calming breath before adding, "Considering the circumstances, both Dr. McCoy and I felt it would be best to have the autopsy conducted back at Starfleet Medical."

"Yes, of course. I understand," Pike replied immediately. "Have you notified the Pilarian Council yet?"

"No, sir. I… have not notified the crew yet, either," Spock said, a glimpse of despair flashing in his eyes before being subdued again.

He hadn't wanted to tell the crew that their captain was dead. Not only did it make the event final, but the emotional results would be overwhelming. As it was, Spock was having a hard enough time blocking out the bridge crew's emotions while also dealing with his own turbulent thoughts and feelings. Facing an entire starship's emotional outpouring would almost certainly be more than he could handle.

After all, Kirk knew everyone onboard by face and almost all by name--he'd made it his own personal mission to know everyone who he was working with at least in passing. Everyone on the _Enterprise _knew of him and respected him well enough to work for him--even those who had looked down on him for his unconventional methods of rising to his captaincy. They had all seen what kind of self-sacrificing leader Kirk was, and even those who'd initially resented him had grown to like him.

_Everyone _on the ship would grieve the loss of their young captain.

Pike eyed his former first officer knowingly. "They shall need to know why they are returning home, Captain," he told him quietly.

Spock's eyes closed for a moment, shoulders tensing at the sound of the title, as all eyes on the bridge turned to look at him. "Understood, sir."

"Tell the Pilarian Council that we shall be sending another ship within the month to resume discussion of their desires to join the Federation. The _Enterprise _should return home immediately."

"Yes, sir," Spock said. "I'll have Lieutenant Uhura send you our estimated arrival time once I have consulted with the helm."

"Good. I'll… start to make the necessary arrangements here," Pike replied with a sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. "I'll see you soon, Captain. Pike out."

The bridge fell silent again as Pike's image disappeared from the screen, the view once again showing the small red-brown planet of Pilar.

"He's… he's really dead?"

Spock turned to face the young female ensign that had spoken. "Yes," he said softly.

He faced the chair, well-aware of the eyes watching him. He took a deep, silent breath through his nose before sitting. Suppressing the emotion that threatened to overwhelm him, he looked to the helm. "Mr. Sulu, how long will it take us to return to Earth if we travel at warp factor one?"

Sulu kept his gaze on his controls as he replied, "Approximately four days, sir."

Spock nodded once. "Set course, Mr. Sulu, but maintain standard orbit until after we have contacted the Pilarian council." He activated the ship-wide communicator, pausing momentarily before announcing, "Attention, _Enterprise_. This is Acting Captain Spock. I regret to inform you that shortly before nineteen hundred hours today, Captain Kirk collapsed while conducting diplomatic business on the surface of Pilar. Despite the medical team's best efforts, he passed away shortly thereafter."

And suddenly it was almost too much. A tidal wave of emotions--disbelief, anger, fear, despair, grief--slammed into him, threatening to overwhelm him with its potency. Spock squeezed his eyes shut, rapidly constructing mental barriers to protect him from the rush of emotion. After a moment, he continued, "I have discussed our situation with Admiral Christopher Pike. He has ordered the _Enterprise _to return to Earth immediately." He paused to consider his next words before finishing, "Given our current location and planned speed, we should arrive in four days. Spock out."

Spock switched channels, keeping his voice even as he ordered, "Mr. Scott, please report to the bridge."

"_Aye, sir_," Scott replied through his communicator. "_Be up in a wee bit. Scott out._"

Spock nodded once as he switched channels again. "Dr. McCoy, I would request your presence on the bridge."

"_Izzit somethin' important? Jus' got off duty._"

Spock's eyebrows furrowed a little at the slur in the doctor's voice but replied, "We need to discuss what happened on Pilar."

There was a moment of silence before McCoy answered, "_I'll be up in a minute_."

"Thank you, doctor. Spock out."

Spock switched the communicator off and sat back in the chair, propping his elbows on the armrests and pressing his fingers together thoughtfully as he closed his eyes. Exhaling silently through his nose, he forced all thoughts out of his mind and concentrated on strengthening his emotional barrier.

For all intents and purposes, Starfleet Regulation 619 required him to step down as captain because of emotional compromise.

But then, Spock was fairly certain no one onboard the _Enterprise _would be able to serve as captain without being emotionally compromised at the present moment.

Feeling as adequately prepared as possible, Spock rose from the chair as the turbo lift slid open. Both Scott and McCoy stepped off the lift before the doors had even finished opening. The CMO seemed perfectly sober, but Spock caught sight of a fresh hypo injection mark on the side of McCoy's neck when the doctor quickly jerked his head to avoid looking at the captain's chair. The Vulcan suspected that the hypo had contained one of the doctor's many hangover remedies.

"You wanted t' see us, sir?" Scott asked, face grim as his eyes shot from the chair to Spock.

Spock nodded once. "Mr. Sulu, come with us. Mr. Chekov, you have the conn."

"Aye, sir," the young Russian replied as Sulu rose to his feet.

Spock led the group off the bridge and into the nearby conference room. The others sat around the small table without any prompting. "Gentlemen, this debriefing shall be informal. Please do not hesitate to speak your mind throughout the proceedings," Spock informed them all.

"You're gonna leave Pilar without conducting an investigation first?" McCoy demanded immediately.

"Admiral Pike will assign another Starfleet ship to continue our work on Pilar while we return to Earth," Spock replied.

"Our _work_? You mean that diplomatic shit that got Jim killed?"

Spock raised an eyebrow slightly in response to McCoy's anger. "You were the one who informed me the captain's passing was the result of natural causes. Have you discovered new information pertinent to this discussion?"

McCoy's shoulders deflated as the others looked at him. He slumped back in his chair, rubbing his face once before letting his hand drop. "No," he declared wearily.

"Then why this accusation that our diplomatic mission to Pilar led to Jim's demise?"

The CMO looked up at him sharply, eyes narrowing as he stared at Spock for a moment. "There's gotta be something I missed, or you missed. You know as well as I do that Jim was healthy as a horse."

"Perhaps his heart…"

Sulu trailed off as McCoy shook his head violently. "He just had a physical last month, and he passed all the tests, including the cardiac ones, with flying colors. Something's not right about this whole thing."

"All due respect, but why're we here?" Scott interrupted, gesturing to himself and Sulu. "I mean, I'm shocked by all this, too, but…"

"We need to review everything that occurred on Pilar," Spock answered. "Starting from the moment we beamed down."

_tbc..._


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N**: This section is entirely flashback. Next chapter will get us moving forward again, I promise! Mega-thanks to everyone who's reviewed, favorited, alerted, and just simply read. Your support is amazing (my e-mail inbox has been overflowing, which makes me excited), and it's literally what made me write this chapter. Mega thanks to **potterwatch **for the cheerleading and to **zookitty **for the beta. I've messed around with it since she gave it back to me, so any and all mistakes are (of course) my own. Also, this is a little late, but I don't own anything __Star Trek__. I'm sure y'all are shocked. Oh, and in case anyone's wondering, I do have a few stories that I drew on for inspiration for this story. I will give them proper credit at the end--don't want to give away any of the big plot! :D_

* * *

_Eight hours earlier _

"We've entered into standard orbit above Pilar, Captain," Sulu called from the helm.

"And I've received a set of coordinates from the Pilarian Assembly, sir," Uhura added. "They say it will be a suitable location for your arrival for the negotiations."

"Patch them through to both the helm and the transporter room, Lieutenant," Kirk ordered, rising from his chair. "Spock, what do we know about Pilar?"

"A class M planet, Pilar has an approximate population of four-point-six million," Spock recited as he pulled up the file at his workstation. "They have been a space-traveling race for forty of their years, which is the equivalent of thirty standard years. The Federation has been in contact with them for the last two decades. Scientists on the planet reported finding one of the largest dilithium deposits on record--a matter which has greatly interested the Federation Council, as Starfleet utilizes a large amount of dilithium for its warp cores. Until this point, however, Pilar has never expressed a desire to join the Federation."

"Do they use dilithium in their space vehicles?" Kirk asked.

"It does not appear so, Captain," Spock answered, a PADD in his hand as he stood from his seat. "Reports indicate that while technologically advanced, the Pilarians are as of yet incapable of travel at warp speed. In fact, their technology appears to be far below that level. If they do use dilithium components, it appears that they have not realized their full potential in interstellar travel."

Kirk's lips pursed thoughtfully. "How long has it been since their last transmission to the Federation?"

"Prior to the one that brought us here? Three years, sir." Spock's eyebrow lifted slightly when Kirk's eyes narrowed in thought. "Is there something troubling you, Captain?"

Kirk folded his arms as he turned to look at the planet visible on the viewscreen. "Don't you think it seems odd that out of the blue a civilization that had previously rejected the Federation's offer to become a member--three times, if I remember correctly--suddenly calls up and claims they've changed their mind?"

Spock nodded once in acknowledgment. "I concur that it is atypical, but it is not entirely unheard of," he replied.

Kirk rubbed his thumb against his chin. "Chekov, run a scan of the planet and see if there have been any recent signs of warfare, or anything else suspicious, for that matter. They may not have reported any unrest or warfare, but that doesn't mean it hasn't happened."

"Aye, Keptin," Chekov answered.

"Sulu, Spock, you two are going to beam down with me, along with Scotty," Kirk added, punching a button on the arm of his chair. "Kirk to Scott."

"_Scott here, Cap'n. What'cha need_?"

"Head up to the bridge for a debriefing. You're gonna beam down with us."

Scott sounded less than thrilled when he replied, "_Aye, sir. Scott out_."

Kirk glanced up as Spock stood next to him. "Do you suspect the Pilarians have ill intentions as the motivation for this meeting?" the Vulcan asked quietly.

"Honestly? I don't know. It all seems on the up-and-up, but I just can't shake the feeling that something's not quite right," Kirk answered just as softly.

Spock nodded slowly, pondering the captain's response. Over the past two years, he'd come to realize that more often than not, Kirk's intuition proved to be quite accurate. "Do you think we need to reconsider our plans to journey to the planet's surface?"

Kirk shook his head once, lips quirking into a faint smirk. "We'll wait for the results of Chekov's scan before we beam down, but I'm pretty sure they'll come up with nothing. I'm probably just being paranoid--been reading too many old conspiracy novels lately."

Spock's eyebrow quirked upward slightly. "This may be true, but it is still best to proceed with caution."

Kirk grinned. "Better safe than sorry, right?"

"My sentiments exactly, sir," Spock answered.

Kirk rolled his eyes as the doors to the turbo lift slid open. "One of these days I'll actually get you to call me by my actual name."

Before Spock could reply, Scott jovially called, "Cap'n! What can I do fer ya? Anythin' need repairin'? Like right this minute?"

Kirk clapped the engineer on the shoulder with a smile. "Don't you want to be diplomatic for a few hours, Scotty?"

Scott made a face. "Och, laddie, y' know how much I _hate _bein' a kiss-ass."

"Even when there's the possibility of seeing previously unknown technology?"

Scott shot him a skeptical look. "Th' last two times y' promised me that, we ended seein' naugh' but primitive propulsion systems that couldnae even move a toaster, let alone somethin' y' can sit in."

"There's always the _possibility_, though, right?"

Scott's lips twitched into a faint smile. "Well, when y' put it like that…"

Kirk laughed, squeezing Scott's shoulder once before letting his hand drop. "Mr. Chekov, any results yet?"

"No, Keptin," the Russian replied. "Ewrything appears to be normal on ze surface. Zere are a few more scans I can conduct, if you are interested."

Kirk nodded once. "Do it. Patch your results through to the computer terminal in the Ready Room, and then inform the crew of our current status in the mission. You'll have the conn in my absence."

"Aye, sir!"

Kirk turned to look at his communications officer. "Lieutenant Uhura, contact Starfleet Command and let them know we're about to begin primary contact with the Pilarians, and request copies of the transcripts from the previous diplomatic interactions."

"Aye, Captain," Uhura replied. "Do you want the transcripts sent to the Ready Room as well?"

"Yes," Kirk answered, glancing at the planet on the viewscreen again. "I want to make sure we're fully informed before we beam down to the surface."

*****

They beamed down into a spacious courtyard. The ground beneath their feet was covered with a substance similar to that of white marble. Directly ahead lay a massive archway leading into a tall, glimmering white building. Kirk stepped forward, resisting the urge to tug at the high collar of his dress uniform, as Giten and four other members of the Pilarian Assembly approached the away team. He could already tell it would be difficult to differentiate between the different Pilarians on this trip--they all had the same thin bodies, black eyes, long dark hair, and smooth pale faces.

"Welcome to Pilar, Captain Kirk," the ambassador declared warmly, throwing out his arms in greeting to the group in front of him. "We are honored that you and your crew are here with us."

"Thank you, sir," Kirk replied with a smile. He gestured to the left. "This is Commander Spock, my first officer. Next to him is Lieutenant Hikaru Sulu, my pilot, and on my right is Lieutenant Commander Montgomery Scott, my chief engineer."

"And I am Giten," the Pilarian declared, bowing so that his long dark hair just brushed the ground. "Welcome to our home." Behind him, the four other Pilarians bowed as well, although not as deeply as Giten. The ambassador straightened and smiled, black eyes glittering brightly in the light of Pilar's two small suns. "You must be exhausted after your journey. Come, I will show you to our guest accommodations. There is a feast being prepared in your honor. We shall wait until afterward to begin our discussions. I always find it easier to talk after an excellent meal."

Kirk bowed slightly. "Again, thank you," he said, rising in time to see the ambassador's lips quirk in a small smirk before smoothing back to a full smile.

Giten nodded, waving the other four Pilarians forward. "You are very welcome, Captain. I do hope you find everything in your quarters to your liking. If you will excuse me, I must attend a short meeting with a few legislative representatives before the celebrations begin."

"Of course. However, I do have one question. Would it be possible to have a tour of this facility?" Kirk asked.

The ambassador's smooth forehead crinkled slightly in confusion for a moment. "I see no problem with this, but I must inquire--why?"

Kirk smiled and shrugged. "I'm an explorer by nature, sir."

Giten smiled, and his shoulders relaxed slightly. "A perfectly reasonable explanation, Captain. I shall make the necessary arrangements," he replied, bowing once more. "My comrades will escort you to your quarters. I shall see you at the feast."

The landing party said their farewells to the ambassador before following the other Pilarians into the building in front of them. As they walked down the main hallway, Kirk glanced around at the sparsely decorated interior. The floor was covered with the same marble-like substance that covered the courtyard, and the walls appeared to be made out of the same substance that was slightly darker in color. The walls themselves were bare, but every ten meters or so the wall opened up in gently sloping arches, revealing a magnificent view of the city. One of the planet's suns was just beginning to set, while the other was moving past midday, casting a mix of long and shortened shadows across the city. Wisps of a gray-brown fog enshrouded the tops of the taller buildings, and a variety of flying vehicles darted over the shorter structures.

"Impressive," Scott muttered in Kirk's ear. "I didnae think there would be buildings this size on th' planet."

"Really?" Kirk replied just as softly.

Scott nodded once. "None of th' scans suggested it."

"The properties in the soil covering Pilar can often cause strange interferences with interstellar scanners," one of the Pilarians interjected. "Previous visitors have made similar comments," he added wryly as Kirk and Scott glanced at each other, slightly sheepish.

Spock's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "There was no mention of this peculiarity within any of our records," he said slowly.

"We cannot account for your Federation's record-keeping abilities," the Pilarian replied, black eyes glinting. "Or apparent lack thereof."

Kirk's eyes narrowed slightly, but he remained silent as they turned down another hallway. "This is where you will stay during your time with us," another Pilarian informed them as they paused outside a smaller arch. A quick glance inside revealed a spacious living area, complete with a table, chairs, and a few sofas. "You will find adjacent rooms suitable for any hygiene needs, as well as two rooms furbished as bedrooms," the Pilarian told them as they walked into the room.

"Should you require any assistance, merely press this button and an aide will be to your room shortly," a third Pilarian added, gesturing to a panel near the entrance.

"Thank you. These quarters should prove to be most adequate," Spock declared.

The Pilarians bowed. "The festivities in your honor shall begin in two lios, the equivalent of ninety of your standard minutes," the first Pilarian said. "An escort shall come to your quarters at that time to lead you back to the courtyard, where the celebration shall occur."

With a final bow, the Pilarians departed, leaving the group to explore their quarters. Kirk tugged at the collar of his uniform as he slowly gazed around the room.

The walls of the room were just as bare as the walls in the hallway, and all of the furniture in the room was a neutral shade of brown. Two arches opened onto a balcony overlooking the south side of the city, which looked to be more agricultural than the north side. To the left of the balcony, three smaller arches stood next to each other. Each of these had wooden doors, etched with simple carvings that resembled vines crisscrossing to the top of the door. There were no handles, but when Sulu pushed on one, it swung open silently, revealing a small room with two simple beds.

"The aesthetics of this building are remarkably similar to Vulcan structures," Spock remarked, clasping his hands behind his back as he strolled around the room.

Scott moved to a table resting on the right side of the room. "What d' y' s'pose these are?" he wondered, picking up one of the violet-colored, oblong-shaped fruits resting in a wooden bowl.

"I wouldn't eat those, Scotty," Kirk warned, settling onto one of the sofas. He sighed as he tipped his head back and closed his eyes, apparently ignorant of the curious looks the others were giving him.

"Do you think they're poisoned?" Sulu asked as Scotty dropped the fruit back into the bowl.

Kirk's lips twitched into a smirk, but he didn't open his eyes. "No, I think they're the fruits Bones warned us about. You know--the aphrodisiacs?"

Scott backpedaled away from the table and sat next to the captain on the sofa. "Och! I dunnae want _anythin_' on me t' shrivel up."

"I think Bones was exaggerating a little when he said that," Kirk replied, tugging at his collar again.

Spock nodded thoughtfully as he picked up a fruit and examined it. "Agreed. The chemical signatures in the records we received from Starfleet Command suggest that while these fruits will cause severe mental inhibitions, they will not cause any body parts to 'shrivel up,' as Dr. McCoy stated."

"Either way, we should avoid eating the fruit," Kirk concluded, raising his head off the back of the sofa. "And don't drink anything other than water," he added with a grin. "Bones was quite adamant about that."

*****

"I apologize, Captain--I did not realize that some of our food would be so irreconcilable to the human digestive tract," Giten declared, forehead wrinkled with worry.

Kirk sighed silently as he continued to support Scott's head. "It's not your fault," he replied, raising his voice slightly to drown out the sound of the engineer's retching. "Our medical officer warned us of the dangers of consuming any of your drinks."

Scott rocked back a little, wiping his mouth as he looked up at the captain. "Wasnae… m' fault, sir. Grabbed th' wrong--" He lunged forward again as he heaved.

"Mr. Scott is correct, Captain," Spock declared from his spot a safe distance from the pair. "There was an inadvertent exchange of his goblet with the one next to it, but Mr. Scott had taken a drink of the liquid before I could inform him of the danger."

"Should we have him beamed up?" Sulu asked, fidgeting next to Spock.

Scott's head shot up, eyes wide. "_No_," he declared firmly, sitting back so he was resting on his knees. "I dunnae think gettin' stabbed in th' neck is goin' t' make me feel any better." He rubbed his stomach a little and added, "I only drank a wee bit, so I should be just fine now. I'm actually feelin' a bit better already."

Spock's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Need I remind you of protocol, Captain?"

Kirk sighed loudly this time as he eyed his chief engineer. Scott stared back at him firmly, cheeks flushed but eyes alert. He'd stayed upright for almost a minute now, which was forty seconds longer than his last four attempts. McCoy would have his head for not sending Scott back, but on the other hand, Kirk wanted the engineer around for their upcoming tour of the Assembly's headquarters.

Plus, he knew first-hand how vicious the CMO could be when he was forced to tend to a senior officer during Delta shift.

"Spock, take him back to our quarters and monitor him for an hour. If he shows no signs of deterioration, then he can stay," he ordered.

Spock stared at Kirk, lips pressed into a thin line--an expression Kirk privately called the _you're-being-a-moron-Captain_ look--but calmly replied, "Yes, sir."

Scott shot him a grateful look as Kirk helped him to his feet. "Thanks, laddie," he murmured.

"You owe me big time, Scotty," Kirk muttered back, handing him over to the Vulcan.

"Again, I apologize, Captain," Giten declared fervently as Kirk watched the pair shuffle awkwardly back toward their quarters.

"Don't worry about it," Kirk answered, turning his gaze toward the ambassador. He smiled sheepishly as he eyed the table where they had been eating earlier. "I, uh… I guess the party's over, huh?"

Giten's forehead smoothed as he, too, glanced back at the table, which had been largely vacated as soon as Scott had started heaving. "I believe so, Captain. But perhaps this is an opportune moment for a tour of our starship production plant. The workers will be off-duty for another lio, which gives us plenty of time to walk around the plant. Afterwards, if your first officer and engineer are able to rejoin us, we could begin our negotiations."

Kirk glanced at Sulu, who shrugged a shoulder. Kirk hesitated for a brief moment, looking towards the archway where his two officers had disappeared. It would be nice to have Scott along for the tour of the production plant--he knew more about engineering than Kirk could ever dream of--but on the other hand, it appeared that this was a one-time offer.

"That sounds like a great idea," Kirk declared with a smile.

Giten returned the smile. "Excellent. I shall go inform the factory foremen, and we shall leave momentarily."

"Great. I'll let Spock and Scott know, as well," Kirk replied, pulling out his communicator. As Giten left to make the arrangements, Kirk flipped the communicator open. "Kirk to Spock."

"_Spock here, Captain_."

"The ambassador's offered to give a tour of the starship production plant to Sulu and I. The workers are apparently off-duty at the moment."

"_Understood, Captain_."

"How's Scotty doing?"

"_He is resting now, sir. And one of the Pilarians was gracious enough to offer me some reading material about the planet's history. It is quite fascinating_."

Kirk's lips twitched and Sulu grinned. "Of course it is," Kirk declared. "Well, make note of anything interesting, and we'll do the same. And I think negotiations are going to start after the tour, if Scotty's feeling better."

"_Understood. Spock out_."

As Kirk put his communicator away, Sulu asked, "Do you really think it's a good idea to go on a tour like this without Mr. Scott?"

"Probably not," Kirk conceded. "But we don't have much of a choice. And I think we have enough knowledge of starship design between the two of us to make a comparison of their designs and production processes."

Sulu nodded as Giten returned. "The plant is slightly beyond easy walking distance, so I have arranged a transport shuttle to take us to and from the tour," the ambassador declared.

"Sounds great," Kirk answered. "Lead the way, sir."

*****

Unlike the gleaming white walls that housed the Assembly, the building containing the production plant was anything but eye-catching. Located on the outskirts of the northern end of town, the large gray building covered two city blocks. No windows were visible beyond the two at the entryway. As Kirk stepped out of the small shuttle, he felt dwarfed by the towering gray walls.

"Our starship production capabilities are still fairly minimal at this point," Giten said as he led Kirk and Sulu past the main entrance. "We currently have eighteen ships in our fleet, each capable of housing two hundred Pilarians. This particular plant produces the parts necessary to keep those ships in proper working order. There's another plant, close to the dilithium mines, that manufactures a new ship every twenty standard years or so."

They paused at a smaller door near the far corner of the building. As Giten punched in an access code, he informed them, "This door will lead us to the pad that will take us up to the observation level."

"How many workers do you have at each of these plants?" Kirk inquired as the ambassador pulled the door open.

"This factory employs eight hundred fifty workers. The other plant employs over a thousand," Giten replied.

They followed him to a machine reminiscent of the ancient elevators on Earth. Both Kirk and Sulu flinched instinctively as the pad jerked to life, but relaxed as it continued to travel smoothly to their destination. A few moments later, they stepped out of the pad and onto a metal walkway.

"Below us is the area where we produce parts for our engines," Giten explained as he led them down the walkway.

Kirk gripped the railing instinctively as he leaned slightly over the edge to look at the machinery. From this high angle, he saw more of the machines making the parts than the parts themselves. A few Pilarians roamed the floor below them, but otherwise the area was quiet. The machines had stopped, many in mid-motion. They could see where one robotic arm was in the process of moving a large sheet of metal from one conveyor belt to the next, and another machine where a similar sheet of metal was half-bent around something resembling a jet engine.

"As you can see, much of the process is automated. However, there are many workers on hand to ensure everything runs smoothly," Giten explained.

They continued on the walkway into another large room. "This is where we create the parts containing dilithium," the ambassador said.

Kirk and Sulu stared with wide eyes at the machine filling most of the room. Unlike the last room, where the machines were spread out over the entire room, this area contained only one instrument. It was tall, reaching from the floor to the ceiling four stories above it. The gleaming metal coating the device curved gracefully, arcing out at the middle and tapering off to rounded points at both ends. Slight indentations in the metal indicated the panels housing various mechanical arms, all of which were currently retracted.

"How long have you had this machine?" Sulu asked.

"I believe it was built a year ago. Why?"

"It bears a strong resemblance to some of the manufacturing technology on Earth," Kirk replied casually.

"Interesting," Giten declared. "It must be entirely coincidental. As far as I know, we have had little interaction with the technological designs your race created."

"Must be," Kirk agreed vaguely, eyes scanning the vast machine as they started walking again. He paused midstride when he saw something move out of the corner of his eye. Glancing down, he caught sight of someone darting out of sight behind the device.

"Captain? Something wrong?"

Kirk glanced up at Giten and Sulu. "Is there supposed to be anyone else in this room?" he asked the ambassador.

The Pilarian shook his head once. "No, only a select few are allowed to work in this area."

Kirk looked down at the floor again. "I could've sworn I saw someone down there," he said, pointing at the device. "Someone that _wasn't_ a Pilarian."

"It must have been your imagination," Giten replied, even as Sulu stood next to the captain and looked at where he was pointing.

"Whoever was there is gone now, sir," Sulu said quietly. Kirk's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything.

They continued touring the rest of the plant, which involved traveling up another two floors to observe the creation of the Pilarians' version of a replicator, as well as the system for labeling each part for a specific spacecraft. Kirk paid little attention to the machines themselves. Instead, he continued to scan the few employees on duty at the plant, trying to see if anyone looked out of place. Sulu asked plenty of questions to occupy the ambassador, so if he noticed Kirk's lack of interest in the tour, he made no mention of it.

The tour ended just as a shrill whistle sounded. "Excellent timing," Giten declared with a smile. "That is the signal for the beginning of the next shift. I shall return you to the Assembly headquarters, and we can begin our negotiations within the lio."

By this time the second sun was beginning to set. Small white lights twinkled across the city as the natural light began to fade, and the setting sun cast silhouettes of the mountains on the horizon. From this distance they appeared small, barely visible over the taller buildings.

"Is there a curfew on your city?" Kirk asked, breaking the silence in the small shuttle. "I noticed there are a lot fewer vehicles now than when we were traveling to the plant."

"Yes," Giten replied with a nod. "When both suns are on the other side of the planet, strong winds often bring dust from the south, minimizing visibility. We have a curfew on all those who do not have jobs which require them to work during the evening as a means of reducing the likelihoods of collisions."

Kirk nodded as he rubbed his chin thoughtfully, but said no more; the rest of the trip was spent in silence.

As soon as Giten left them in the courtyard to return the shuttle, Sulu hissed, "I thought Commander Spock said the Pilarians weren't even close to being capable of warp travel!"

Kirk looked grim as they walked down the hall that led to their quarters. "Their ships might not be, but that machine was definitely a warp core manufacturer," he replied.

"And it looked way too close to Starfleet's design to be a coincidence," Sulu added.

"Agreed." Kirk sighed as a thought crossed his mind. "But remember, the Pilarians have had contact with the Federation before. It's possible they somehow got a hold of the designs during any of those encounters."

"Wouldn't that violate the Prime Directive?"

"Technically, yes." Kirk sighed again, scratching at an itch on his neck. "This just turned into all-around pain-in-the-ass mission," he declared.

"Agreed, sir," Sulu answered. "Who did you see in that room?"

"I'm not sure," Kirk admitted. "Whoever was in there was out of sight before I could get a solid look at them, but the body structure looked far too bulky to be a Pilarian."

Sulu frowned in thought. "Do you think it's possible another race has helped the Pilarians with the development of the warp drive manufacturer?"

"Possibly," Kirk replied, running a hand through his hair. "Although at this point, it would be a bad idea to jump to conclusions. After all, the Pilarians are entitled to make contact with anyone they want."

"True," Sulu said with a nod. "So what do we do?"

"Let's see if Spock's found out anything from those records he was looking at," Kirk answered. He frowned as he scratched at his neck again. "Maybe he's found…"

Sulu's eyes narrowed in confusion as the captain stopped moving. "Captain? What is it?"

Kirk's forehead was furrowed in bewilderment as he stared at the helmsman. "I feel kinda--"

His face blanched and his knees suddenly buckled. "Captain!" Sulu exclaimed, lunging forward. He managed to grab Kirk's shoulders before the captain's head could slam into the ground. Kirk's head rolled forward limply as Sulu shifted his grip on Kirk's shoulders. He gently laid Kirk flat, lightly tapping the captain's cheek to try and rouse him. "Captain? Jim? Jim!"

Kirk's eyes remained closed, and his lips were tinged with blue as Sulu placed two fingers on his neck. His eyes widened when he felt how faint and fast Kirk's pulse was. He looked up and bellowed, "Spock!"

Spock and Scott appeared at the end of the hall a moment later with phasers drawn, and they rushed toward the fallen pair. "What happened?" Spock demanded tersely as he knelt down on Kirk's other side.

"I don't know! We were just walking and he collapsed," Sulu explained, a hint of panic in his voice as Spock gripped Jim's wrist to measure his pulse.

Scott bent down and held his ear over Kirk's mouth. "His breathin's too shallow," he declared grimly.

Spock pulled out his communicator. "Spock to _Enterprise_."

"_Uhura here, sir_."

"Beam us up _now_," Spock ordered curtly. "Make sure Dr. McCoy's on hand."

"_Aye, sir_."

Any further questions Uhura might have had were cut off as the Vulcan hurriedly put his communicator away and pulled one of Kirk's arms around his shoulders. Scott grabbed the captain's other arm, and together they managed to get to their feet, Kirk slumped limply between them.

"Is he gonna be alright?" Sulu asked.

As the tell-tale bands of light started swirling around them, the first officer locked eyes with the helmsman. His face was blank, but his voice was troubled when he said, "I do not know."

_tbc..._


	4. Chapter 4

_**A/N**: Apologies for posting this so late (although it's still Friday here!), but real life got much busier than I planned today. *g* Also, it'll be Jim's POV next chapter! :D __Mega thanks to **potterwatch **for the cheerleading and to **zookitty **for the beta. I've messed around with it since she gave it back to me, so any and all mistakes are (of course) my own.  
_

* * *

"And that's it," Sulu finished, quiet voice filling the small conference room. He raised his eyes to look at the three faces staring back at him over the wooden table. Scott's face was grim, while McCoy's eyes were stormy as he scowled at no one in particular. Spock's face was as neutral as usual, save for the thin green vein visible near his left temple--a sign that his emotional state was anything but neutral. Sulu stared at his hands again. "That's what happened."

"And there were no warning signs? He just keeled over?" McCoy asked.

"Yes. We only had a few seconds warning before he went down," Sulu answered grimly, squaring his shoulders as he lifted his eyes once more.

"You neglected to mention the discovery of the warp core manufacturer in your report to the admiral," Spock said, looking sharply at Sulu. "Why?"

"We never actually _confirmed _that was what it was, sir," Sulu replied. "We just assumed that's what it was. I didn't think it would be wise to start pointing fingers based off an assumption."

"From th' sounds of it, I'd say y' assumed right," Scott told him, leaning forward in his chair. "From what I've seen of Pilarian technology--and if there's any sense in th' design of their manufacturers--there's nothin' on their planet that would require such a large machine t' make."

"And yet it is illogical for the Pilarians to have such a machine, as there is no apparent warp technology in their spacecraft," Spock said.

McCoy folded his arms as he sat back in his chair. "What the hell does this all have to do with what happened to Jim?"

"Maybe there's some kind of conspiracy within the Pilarian government," Sulu suggested half-heartedly. "Something they didn't want us to know about."

Spock shook his head once. "Illogical. The Pilarians established initial contact with the Federation, so it is highly unlikely they would do so if there is something they are trying to hide."

"Unless they were after the cap'n himself," Scott pointed out.

"Why? Why would they be after him?" McCoy asked harshly. "Sulu saw the exact same thing Jim did at that factory--why didn't they kill him, too? And when would they have had opportunity to do it? Can't have been at the feast--from the sounds of it, if there was poison in anything at that feast, y'all should have died, too, since y'all ate the same thing. If anything, Scotty should've been the one to keel over."

"The doctor makes an excellent point," Spock agreed. "Mr. Scott is the only member of the away team to have consumed something the rest of the team did not also consume, and the captain was never alone during the duration of our stay. It seems improbable that there could have been foul play involved."

"What about the person Captain Kirk saw in the factory?" Sulu wondered. "Could he have been involved somehow?"

"There is no sign that Jim's…" Spock's eyes darkened as he considered his next words. "That the captain's… passing… was caused by anything other than natural causes," he finished slowly.

"And… as much as I hate to say it… whoever--or whatever--Jim saw could've been a hallucination," McCoy added grimly. "That may have been the only warning. Jim tends to…" The CMO grimaced as he corrected himself. "Jim _used _to hide things when he was sick or injured. He might not have let you see any other symptoms."

"So… tha's it, then?" Scott asked. "He just… keeled over?"

Before anyone could respond, the communicator embedded in the wall chimed. "_Commander, the Pilarian ambassador has contacted us_," Uhura announced. "_He wants to know what happened to the landing party_."

Spock moved to the communicator and pressed a button. "Understood, Lieutenant. Inform the ambassador I will speak with him momentarily."

_"Yes, sir." _

Spock turned to face the others. "I believe this debriefing is over." His eyebrows furrowed as he added, "We shall have to wait until an autopsy is conducted to determine if further investigation into this incident is necessary."

With that, the Vulcan strode from the room, leaving them in an uncomfortable silence. "I still… I just can't believe it," Sulu said quietly, looking to the chair to the right of the one Spock had been sitting in--the chair Kirk typically sat in during meetings in this room.

McCoy suddenly growled and slammed a fist into the table before shooting up from his seat. "I'll be in sickbay," he growled as he moved to the door.

Scott reached out and grasped the CMO's elbow, making him pause mid-step. "You did everything you could, Doc," the engineer said quietly. "No one blames ya."

McCoy's shoulders slumped a little as he tugged his elbow out of Scott's loose grip. "I do."

*****

As soon as Spock stepped in front of the captain's chair, Uhura brought up Ambassador Giten's transmission onto the main viewscreen. "Ambassador," Spock greeted, bowing slightly in respect. "I apologize for our abrupt departure, and for failing to notify you."

"I am simply relieved to see you well, Commander," Giten replied, a small smile on his thin lips. "When we discovered your party had disappeared, we searched the grounds to no avail. I trust you are all well? Where is your captain?"

Spock hesitated for a brief moment, eyes flickering over to Uhura. The lieutenant stared back, eyes filled with both grief and support as she looked at him. Spock straightened his shoulders as he looked back to the viewscreen. "It is my great regret to inform you that Captain Kirk passed away a few hours ago."

A door slid open, but Spock kept his eyes on the viewscreen, watching the Pilarian's reaction closely. Giten blinked rapidly, and his mouth turned down into a frown--all apparent signs that the ambassador was quite upset. But the blackness of his eyes made it difficult for Spock to see the true emotion reflected there.

"You have my deepest regrets," the ambassador said gravely. "This is a most terrible loss, and quite a sudden turn of events."

"Indeed," Spock replied shortly.

Giten tilted his head slightly. "May I inquire as to what happened? Captain Kirk appeared to be in perfect health when I saw him last."

"The captain collapsed on the way back to the quarters you had provided for our use," Spock explained as Scott and Sulu walked onto the bridge. Sulu silently returned to his station, and Scott stood just behind Spock's left shoulder. The Vulcan hesitated for a moment before adding, "Preliminary reports indicate his death was a result of natural causes."

The ambassador's forehead furrowed slightly. "An odd diagnosis for one so healthy and vital as the captain," he said.

Spock's hands clenched into fists behind his back. "It _is _atypical, but there are several possible explanations. A logical elucidation should be discovered during the autopsy back at Starfleet Medical," he said firmly, voice filled with barely restrained emotion.

"I see," Giten said softly. He blinked and asked, "And what of our negotiations, Commander?"

"I have assurances from Admiral Christopher Pike that Starfleet shall send another ship to serve as envoy within the month. While this… change in circumstances is most unfortunate, we shall not allow it to derail our efforts to form a relationship with your people." Spock swallowed as he added, "Captain Kirk would not have wanted that."

Giten nodded, a smile once more tugging at his lips. "I imagine he would not. Your captain was a good man."

"Aye," Scott declared softly as many crew members on the bridge nodded in agreement.

"I shall inform the Assembly of these events," Giten said. He paused for a moment. "I would request you consider remaining here long enough for our people to hold a proper _dau hollfa _for the captain. It is our kind's memorial for someone of great importance. Typically the ceremony requires a body, but we may be able to negotiate around that, as Pilar is not Captain Kirk's native world."

Spock's eyebrows furrowed slightly. "What exactly would this ceremony--"

The Vulcan turned as the communicator built into the arm of the captain's chair suddenly chirped. "Excuse me a moment, Ambassador," he said, moving to the chair and pressing a button. "Spock here."

"_You need to get down to sickbay. Now_."

Spock raised an eyebrow at the tension in McCoy's voice. "Is something the matter, Doctor?"

When there was no reply, Spock frowned and turned toward the helm. "Mr. Chekov?"

The young Russian was already entering some commands into his console. "Ze doctor appears to be alone in ze sickbay, sir," he replied. "I can find no reason for a disturbance."

The Vulcan looked back at the viewscreen. Giten was staring at him, head tilted slightly in confusion. "I am sorry, but I am afraid our conversation will have to be cut short, Ambassador," Spock said.

"I understand," Giten answered. "What about my request?"

Spock thought for a moment before replying, "I would request you send the information regarding _dau hollfa _to our ship. I shall have to consult with Starfleet before I make a decision, but I will gladly inform you on my choice as soon as it is made."

Giten bowed low, face disappearing off screen for a moment before reappearing. "It shall be done," he declared.

Spock nodded once, and the transmission ended. "Mr. Sulu, you have the conn," the Vulcan ordered, heading for the turbo lift. "I shall be in sickbay."

*****

McCoy walked forcefully to the turbo lift, keeping his eyes forward as he jabbed the button fiercely. He could feel several sets of eyes focused on him, but he continued staring at the lift doors. If he looked around at all he'd see the Pilarian on the viewscreen.

He wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop himself from launching a tirade against the ambassador of the planet where his best friend had died.

After a long moment, the doors finally slid open with a quiet hiss and McCoy entered, punching the button that would take him back to sickbay. The doors shut just as the Pilarian ambassador announced gravely, "You have my deepest regrets."

McCoy snorted humorlessly as he slumped back against the walls of the lift. _Like I need anymore regret_, he thought bitterly, crossing his arms for the few moments it took for the lift to reach its destination.

The sickbay was practically empty, as it was the beginning of Gamma shift. McCoy nodded at Nurse Trachton, the only nurse on duty, as he stepped off the lift and passed by her desk. The young woman glanced up and nodded back, a small, sad smile curving her lips.

He'd planned on going back to the bottle of bourbon that was currently on the desk in his office--he'd already had several glasses before Spock had called him up for the debriefing, and he had every intention of finishing the bottle off.

Yet instead of his office, he found himself leaning against the partition he'd put into place to separate the bio-bed where Kirk's body lay from the rest of sickbay. Someone--Chapel, more than likely--had smoothed the captain's tousled hair and draped a sheet up to his chest, bare arms holding the fabric down. If McCoy didn't know Kirk better, he could've pretended the younger man was simply asleep.

But McCoy did know better. There was no need for a blanket in sickbay, thanks to the bio-beds. And Jim had _never _been that still, not even in sleep.

Behind him, he heard Trachton slip off into the supply room for the nightly inventory. He had a feeling the nurse would be taking more time for the process than usual, which left McCoy alone in the sickbay with Kirk.

Or rather, the shell that _used _to be his best friend.

"I always thought the job would kill ya, Kid," McCoy muttered, folding his arms as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He sighed a little. "Just thought it'd be in a blaze of glory, not on some kiss-ass diplomatic mission."

He wasn't sure why he was disappointed when Jim didn't respond with some smart-aleck remark; he was well aware Kirk couldn't do anything like that anymore.

"I'm getting too old for this kinda thing," the CMO griped, pushing off the partition and moving forward to stand next to the bio-bed.

It'd been awhile since he'd stared at a body. He'd never enjoyed being around bodies--he was a doctor, not a mortician, after all, and it was his _job _to keep people from becoming bodies. But since the odds were against him never losing a patient, especially on a starship, he'd developed a knack for detaching himself from the situation.

Except he couldn't now. Not like this. Not with Jim.

McCoy sighed, reaching over to grab the chair someone had left behind and dragging it next to the bed. He sat down, perching on the edge of the seat as he looked at Kirk. He propped his elbows on his knees and cradled his chin in his hands.

"Damn it, Jim," he murmured after a moment, and something inside him twisted sharply when he thought about the fact he'd never have to say those words again. He swallowed hard and rubbed his face with a hand. "I'm sorry," he whispered. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you."

He sighed again as he shifted in his seat. This one-sided conversation was too similar to the one he'd had after his father had died. He never thought he'd experience another loss quite as deep and profound as the death of his father.

But then, he'd never thought he'd have a friend quite like Jim Kirk, either.

"God, I'm such a _failure_," he breathed as he stared at Jim's blue-tinged face. After a moment, he tipped his head forward to rest on the edge of the bed. "Couldn't save my father… couldn't save my marriage… guess it makes sense I couldn't save you," he finished, a bitter smirk twisting his lips. "Seems like I can't save the things that mean the most to me."

He swallowed a few times, hand reaching up to grab Kirk's limp wrist. He grimaced at the feel of too-cool skin beneath his and tightened his grip instinctively, willing warmth back into it. It was exactly like last time--a body cooling on the bed, leaving McCoy behind despite his best efforts to save the one person who meant the most to him; leaving him alone to pick up the shattered pieces of what had once been his life.

McCoy had barely made it through last time. _Wouldn't_ have made it, if he hadn't met Kirk on that Starfleet shuttle five years ago.

"I can't do this again, Jim," he whispered brokenly, moisture stinging his eyes. "I _can't_."

_Thump_.

McCoy's head shot up at the press of a pulse against his fingers. He blinked furiously, adjusting his grip on Jim's wrist and holding his breath instinctively as he tried to find the rhythm back.

_Please_, he thought desperately. _Please_…

The seconds stretched on with no sign of any further movement within Jim's veins, and McCoy's shoulders slumped a little with each passing moment, bitterness shoving out the momentary hope he'd felt. "Damn it," he hissed, loosening his grip slightly but reluctant to completely let go of his friend's wrist. "I'm such a--"

_Thump_.

He paused mid-sentence, eyes widening as he glanced up at the chronometer perched above the bio-bed. His grip tightened as he watched the seconds tick by.

"This can't be…" he murmured softly as the thirty-second mark went past without another heartbeat. "I must've imagined it again. There's no way…" He trailed off, watching the seconds continue to scroll past.

_Thump_.

The third time he felt the pulse, it seemed stronger than it had before, and McCoy felt the beginnings of a disbelieving smile pulling at his face. Seventy-two seconds. Way too long to be a practical heart rate, and yet he'd _felt _it. _Three _times.

He stood to tug the sheet covering the captain's chest down a bit and laid his ear over Jim's heart, keeping his fingers wrapped around Kirk's wrist. "C'mon, Jim," he muttered, counting down silently.

Seventy-two seconds later, he heard the solid _thud-thud _of Kirk's heart in time with the pulse moving beneath his fingers.

"Oh my god," McCoy breathed, straightening and looking at Jim. Not at the body. At _Jim_.

Because Jim was _alive_.

McCoy reached up and turned on the bio-bed's monitors, keeping them on silent so as to avoid the deafening screech that would result from the computer's failure to detect a heartbeat. He released Kirk's hand to move to a nearby comm. "McCoy to bridge."

A moment later he heard Spock calmly announce, "_Spock here_."

"You need to get down to sickbay. Now," McCoy declared tersely before stepping away from the comm. He heard Spock ask something, but paid no attention as he moved back to Kirk's side, grabbing the younger man's wrist as he looked up at the monitor. He just had to wait a few more seconds…

As the seventy-two second mark passed, McCoy not only felt the _thump _of Jim's pulse, but he also saw the lines for both Kirk's heart rate and respiratory functions jump briefly before flat-lining again. "Damn it, Jim," he declared with a grin, looking back down at the captain. His skin was still too blue, and there was no steady rise and fall of his chest, but the signs were there.

Jim was _alive_.

The CMO turned as he heard the hiss of the lift's doors sliding open. Spock strode through the partition a moment later, eyebrows deeply furrowed as he caught sight of the doctor smiling as he gripped Kirk's wrist. "What have you discovered, Doctor?" the Vulcan queried, eyes flicking from Kirk's body to McCoy.

McCoy's grin widened as he pointed at the bio-bed's monitor. "Just watch."

Spock quirked an eyebrow but obeyed, watching the flat line of the monitor for a long moment. "I do not understand--"

"Wait for it," McCoy ordered, glancing at the chronometer. "Just a couple more seconds."

Spock stiffened as the readings on the monitor jumped again. "What… what does this mean?" he asked softly, looking at the doctor with what McCoy could've sworn was hope forming in his eyes.

"He's alive, Spock," McCoy replied. "Jim's _alive_."

"How?"

McCoy chuckled a little as he shook his head in wonder, watching the readings spike once more as the skin beneath his fingers jumped. "I don't know," he said honestly. "His heart's only beating once every seventy-two seconds, and I think that's how often he's breathing, too."

"It is impossible for a human to survive for long with such vital signs," Spock replied. "And yet…"

"Jim's always tried to do the impossible," McCoy finished. "Makes sense he would be doing it now."

Spock frowned a little in thought as he looked at the captain. "What is the likelihood that this is result of natural causes?"

"Slim to none," McCoy replied. His hand tightened around Kirk's wrist reflexively as he realized the implications of the answer. "Someone _did _poison him," he growled.

Spock's eyes darkened as he nodded once. "It appears so, Doctor," he declared, voice hardened slightly by anger. "By all outward appearances, the would-be assassin must have used some kind of neurotoxin to create the appearance of death."

McCoy glanced up as the readings on the bio-bed spiked again and nodded. "I can think of four compounds right now that could pass through the standard blood work undetected. Problem is, none of those are meant to last this long. With each one, the patient dies if there's no antidote or some other kind of stimulant administered within an hour."

"It is possible that we are facing an unknown pathogen, as we are currently conducting business with a relatively unknown species," Spock pointed out. His eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Is it possible to maintain an acceptable level of brain functions when the vital signs are at this state?"

McCoy's face darkened at the thought. "No. Jim's heart's not beating often enough to send blood moving through his veins, and his respiratory levels aren't high enough to have a healthy amount of oxygen in his blood. And Chapel did a neural scan when we were trying to revive him. There was nothing." He sighed, finally releasing Jim's wrist as he reached up to rub his neck wearily. "Hell, maybe he's just as far away from us as he was when we thought he was dead."

Spock tilted his head thoughtfully as he glanced down at Kirk. "There is a way to find out," he declared slowly, raising his eyes to stare firmly at McCoy.

The CMO stared back at the Vulcan for a long moment before his eyebrows suddenly shot up in realization. "_No_, Spock," he declared firmly. "I won't allow it."

"Any other scans or tests you may attempt will yield inconclusive results due to whatever pathogen has put Jim in this state," Spock protested. "A mind meld is the quickest way to determine if his mind has been unaffected by these events."

"And what happens if it has?" McCoy shot back, folding his arms. "What happens if Jim's mind is gone and you try and meld with him? What's to stop that from rebounding on you?"

"I shall be able to detect such a problem before it occurs," Spock replied calmly. Before McCoy could protest, he added, "I would prefer to have you remain conscious during this procedure, Doctor, but I am ready to proceed as I feel is necessary with or without your presence."

McCoy scowled. "I don't like it," he growled.

"Your disapproval is duly noted, Doctor," Spock answered wryly, moving to stand near Kirk's head. He hesitated for a moment before gently pressing his fingers to Kirk's head and murmuring, "Our minds, one and together."

_tbc..._


	5. Chapter 5

_**A/N**: __Posting late again--server issues combined with the fact that this chapter is hella long (over 9,000 words). Couple notes for the chapter: Lots of medical references here. I'm an English major, not a doctor. Ergo, some stuff might be wrong. Let me know if there are issues--I'm always glad to learn more. Also, I didn't have a lot to go on for the mind meld section, so... do with that as you will. This chapter has a lot of inspiration from **LittleFairy78**'s _Supernatural_ story "Sleep Eternal" (which you can find the link to in my favorites), so mega thanks to her for the inspiration (and for letting me use her story as my muse for this story). _

_Also, some bad news on the posting front--I'm going on vacation next weekend, and due to the sudden increase of my social life (I have one of those? Who knew?) it's going to be impossible for me to finish another chapter before I leave. Therefore, the next chapter will be posted _**_July 31_**_. Hopefully the length of this chapter, plus the one or two oneshots I'll be posting next week will make up for the long wait._

_Finally, thank you to everyone who's read, reviewed, fave'd, etc. Your support is immeasurable. If anyone ever has questions/ideas/suggestions, feel free to let me know--I'm always looking for new input. And thank you to **potterwatch** and **zookitty** for teaming up to help beta this chapter. You ladies are astounding and far too good to me. All the remaining mistakes belong to me.  
_

_**Disclaimer**: Star Trek doesn't belong to me. I'm sure y'all are astonished._

* * *

He was walking with Sulu when everything changed. Something was wrong.

Really, _really _wrong.

Jim's entire body was tingling and burning, and his legs suddenly had no energy to keep walking back to their temporary quarters. The temperature had gone up at least twenty degrees, and Jim could feel his tongue stick to the roof of his parched mouth when he tried to swallow.

"Captain? What is it?"

Jim looked up at his helmsman in bewilderment and saw both confusion and concern clouding Sulu's eyes. His lips tingled and his tongue felt clumsy as he tried to talk. "I feel kinda--"

He wanted to say "weird," but things suddenly went dark and he inexplicably lost control of his mouth. He felt his knees buckle as he heard Sulu cry, "Captain!" He frantically tried to get his arms out in front of him, but they wouldn't _move_, he couldn't get _anything _in his body to move, and he was still falling, his face was going to smash into the floor--

A pair of hands grabbed at his shoulders, stopping his fall, and his head jerked forward limply. Jim wanted to say _Nice catch _but he couldn't because his lips wouldn't _move_, and he knew Sulu was the one supporting him, but he couldn't see the pilot because he'd even lost control of his _eyelids_, and this complete and sudden lack of control was really starting to freak him out.

Then he felt his body shift backwards. There was a moment of disoriented panic before Jim realized that Sulu was simply lowering him to the ground. The stone floor felt cool through the fabric of his dress uniform, and his skin went from burning hot to freezing cold in less than a second. Any other time, he'd be shivering violently, but apparently whatever just happened to him prevented him from shivering as well.

He felt Sulu tapping lightly at his cheeks, as if trying to wake him up--all good in theory, except for the fact that he already _was _awake, so there really was no point to it. "Captain?" Sulu called. "Jim? Jim!"

_Oh, sure, now you call me by my first name_, Jim thought wryly. Two years as captain and he _still _was working on that with pretty much everyone except Bones. He was pretty sure it was a losing battle, but since he didn't believe in no-win situations, it was one he'd keep on fighting.

He felt Sulu place two warm fingers on his neck, just above his jugular. _See, it'll be fine, Sulu_, he tried to reassure mentally. _I still have a pulse. It'll be fine. I can't move a frickin' muscle, but I'm sure it'll wear off--everything's fine. _

Judging by the blatant panic in Sulu's voice as he bellowed for Spock, however, everything was _not _fine--which really confused Jim. It wasn't as if his heart was stopped, after all--Jim was pretty sure he'd be unconscious if it had.

He heard familiar footsteps pounding down the hall (and, yes, it would really be nice to at least have control over his eyelids so he could _see_). "What happened?" Spock demanded in a clipped tone that did nothing for Jim's stress levels. Spock only used that tone when he was extremely stressed, and it was a bad sign if Spock was letting that much emotion show in his voice.

"I don't know! We were just walking and he collapsed," he heard Sulu explain. A moment later he felt warmth encircle his wrist--Spock's hand, judging by the much higher temperature of the skin touching his.

Then Jim felt breath ghosting over his chin and he would've recoiled if possible. Someone was really invading his personal space, and it was all the more uncomfortable because he couldn't see who it was. "His breathin's too shallow," Scotty declared from just above him before moving away.

Jim heard the familiar chirp of a communicator. "Spock to _Enterprise_."

"_Uhura here, sir_."

"Beam us up _now_," Spock ordered curtly. "Make sure Dr. McCoy's on hand."

"_Aye, sir_."

Jim was impressed--if _he _were to get a transmission from Spock with that much blatant concern, he'd be demanding to know what was going on. Although right now, he really just wanted to be back aboard the _Enterprise_. Bones would fix him up--of that he had no doubt.

The tug of his arms across two different sets of shoulders jerked him from his musings. The disorienting movement of the unseen world around him made his head spin, and if his muscles could work, Jim was pretty sure he'd be throwing up right about now. It was probably a good thing he couldn't--Spock had been far from happy the last time Jim had thrown up on him.

"Is he gonna be alright?" Sulu asked in a tone that made something inside Jim clench with fury. He was supposed to reassure his officers, not be the reason they worried. Especially when he was feeling _fine_.

Other than the whole can't-move-a-muscle thing, of course.

Spock's tone was troubled when he replied, "I do not know." That, more than anything else thus far, made Kirk panic inwardly. It was a rare occasion when Spock was this open with his emotions, much less about admitting uncertainty.

Jim thought he was fine. So why were the others so worried?

He felt the tingly push-pull of the transporter, and a moment later his feet reconnected with the pad. They'd barely arrived before he was being tugged forward again, the sudden movement making his head bob around a bit.

"What the hell happened?"

Jim had never been so relieved to hear Bones' _gruff-because-I'm-worried _tone. _Bones will fix this_, he thought, trying to ignore the nauseating movement of being lowered onto a waiting gurney as Sulu offered a hurried explanation. He heard the soft beeps of a tricorder and sighed inwardly in a relief. In moments the device would tell his crew they had no reason to be so worried--

"I'm not finding a pulse!"

If he could have, Jim would have blinked in surprise. _Come again? _he wondered as Spock and Bones lowered the gurney down. He was cold and paralyzed, true, but he was also fully conscious and still alive--so why the hell did everyone think otherwise?

Jim was so lost in thought he barely had time to register the movement of his head being tipped back before his nose was pinched shut and a pair of lips pressed down on his.

_Oh god_, Jim thought in horror as Bones blew air into his lungs. He'd thought Scotty was invading his personal space when he was listening for Jim's breathing back on Pilar, but it didn't even come close to _this_. When he regained control over his body, Bones was _never _going to hear the end of it.

Also, it was time to implement a requirement for all members of the medical team to brush their teeth four times a shift. Just because.

Bones lifted his mouth away and asked, "Anyone here know CPR?"

Jim nearly missed Uhura's response as he felt the CMO's hands settle over his sternum. _Shit_, he inwardly whimpered as Bones started pressing down on his chest firmly. His muscles might not be working, but the pain receptors were completely functional, and they were practically screaming at him every time Bones pushed down.

"Then get ready to breathe for him," Bones barked between compressions. Jim felt his head jerk a little with each strong compression, and he decided that after this, he was _never _going to accuse Bones of being weak ever again.

"Now," Bones ordered, and Jim had just enough time to notice the desperation that made his best friend's voice crack before a much softer pair of lips closed over his to blow two breaths into his lungs.

Jim tried to make the situation less awkward by pretending that he was _really _drunk and trying to kiss a girl (and failing miserably)--which worked for a millisecond, before he remembered that this was _Uhura _kneeling over him and pressing her lips against his.

Spock was going to _kill _him.

Then he heard Bones order Chekov to radio Chapel, and his heart sank a little. Bad enough that his senior officers had to be here for this--to see their captain lying lifeless on the floor--but Chekov was still too young. He was still a _teenager_, not even old enough to be considered legal drinking age on Earth--

The sharp pain of Bones shoving his ribs down to try and get his heart started drove the rant from Jim's mind.

"I just don't understand," he heard Sulu declare softly. "He was fine less than an hour ago!"

_And I'm _still _fine! _Jim thought furiously as Bones finished up the second set of compressions. _Why doesn't anyone believe that? _

He felt fingers pressing against the pulse point on his neck as Uhura breathed for him again. _Please, _please_, let there be something_, he silently pleaded.

"Damn it, still nothing!" Bones spat, resuming compressions. Jim wasn't sure how he was doing it, but Bones was managing to press even _harder _this time, and he was fairly certain his ribs wouldn't be able to hold out much longer under this amount of pressure. "Don't ya even _think_ about givin' up on me now, Kid," the CMO grunted fiercely, and the underlying panic in his voice would've made the breath catch in Jim's throat if Bones wasn't trying to cave his chest in. Even the doctor's frantic movements weren't enough to jolt Jim's mind from its newfound revelation.

Bones thought he was _dying_, Jim realized in horror. They _all _thought he was dying.

The sharp _crack _of a bone breaking registered a split second before the white-hot pain did. Once it hit, though, it drove out all coherent thought from the captain's mind except for a steady stream of, _Pain pain pain oh god pain! _He wished for the blissful ignorance that resulted from unconsciousness, but apparently whatever had caused him to appear dead kept him from actually falling into unconsciousness, leaving him fully aware of the pain and completely unable to do anything about it.

Then Bones restarted his compressions, and the pain levels Jim thought couldn't get any higher did, and all he could think was, _This is going to kill me_.

Bones was yelling something, and he could hear Chapel's voice replying, but their words were lost in the painful roar thundering in his ears. The compressions stopped, and Jim regained enough coherent thought to register the feel of a plastic mask being placed over his nose and mouth. The pain in his chest flared as air was forced into his lungs, causing his ribs to expand.

"Negative on any brain or other neural activity, sir," Chapel suddenly announced from near his head, and Jim would've snorted if he could have.

_Guess that proves what you've told me all along, Bones_, Jim thought. _I really _don't_ think._ Judging from the lack of any type of smart remark, though, Bones wasn't thinking along the same lines at the moment.

Something slick and cold (which was a mildly impressive feat, considering his skin was already freezing) was suddenly placed on Jim's chest. He barely had time to think, _What happened to my uniform? _before Chapel announced, "Charging. And… clear!"

A jolt of electricity raced through Jim's body, making him arch up before crashing back painfully onto the gurney. The scream racing through his head was so loud Jim was surprised Spock couldn't pick up on it telepathically. The pain was enough to make him miss what Bones was saying, but the results were more than clear when he felt the slick coldness placed back on his chest. _Oh, please no_, he internally moaned, frantically try to gain control over something in his body. If he could just get _someone's _attention, maybe he wouldn't have to--

Electricity coursed through him again, and his thought processes were drowned out by his silent scream. Over the roaring in his ears, Jim heard the soft beeping of the tricorder and he waited, hoping for good news but fearing the worst.

"No," Bones whispered. Something crashed to the ground, and two fingers pressed against his neck while another hand grabbed his wrist. Jim's throat clogged (or _would _have, if his muscles weren't paralyzed) as he sensed Bones lean in closer. "Don't you do this, Jim--_don't you do this_," the doctor hissed fiercely. Jim felt a small drop of water land on his chin, and it took a moment before he realized what it was.

A tear.

It wasn't much--Jim highly doubted Bones even knew it had happened, let alone cared, but to Jim it was like a hammer blow.

Bones was _crying _because of him. Because he thought Jim was dead.

And suddenly, any remote humor in this situation fled. If Jim ever recovered from this (and that was starting to look less and less likely, he admitted to himself), he was pretty sure he'd never be able to use any of this as blackmail against his crew--not even the CPR bit. Not when they were this upset about it.

Bones was growling and pressing down on Jim's chest again, but Jim hardly noticed the spike in pain. He was too furious--furious at Bones for thinking Jim would _possibly _die now, furious at himself for not being able to show some sign that he was alive, furious at whatever had caused this to happen to him.

Because, as Jim was quickly starting to realize when Chapel placed the defibrillator paddles on his chest and Bones gave him two more rescue breaths, whatever was causing this type of paralysis couldn't _possibly _be natural. Somehow Jim had become a target, but that wasn't what ticked him off the most. By messing with Jim, they messed with his crew.

Nobody messed with Jim Kirk's crew and got away with it.

Then Chapel pressed down with the paddles again, and Jim lost his train of thought as the pain consumed him once more.

The compressions resumed briefly, until Spock said something that made Bones pause. "He's not dead, damn it! This is Jim Kirk. He drives cars off cliffs, gets himself shot, gets strangled, beat up, and a hundred other idiotic and childish things, but he _doesn't die_!"

_You got that right_, Jim agreed silently. He sighed inwardly as the CMO stared compressions again. _I just wish _you _still believed it. _

"You hear me, kid?" Bones muttered, increasing the pressure again. "You do _not _get to die on me! Not now."

In the haze of pain that followed, Jim lost track of how many sets of compressions and breaths Bones performed. The only thing that registered in his mind besides the pain was the silence that filled the transporter room. Jim quickly decided the silence was worse than the pain.

But, like the pain, there was nothing he could do about it.

He heard Bones shift a little before the fingers were back at his throat, and a moment later he felt Bones press his ear against the skin above his heart. _C'mon, Bones_, he thought desperately. _I'm still in here! Don't give up on me_…

Then Bones moved again, pulling his hand away from Jim's neck to grab his wrist with shaking fingers. Jim felt his friend's head turn until his forehead was pressed against Jim's chest, uncomfortably near the broken rib. Warm air ghosted over the freezing skin on his side as Bones whispered, "Call it."

_No_, Jim thought as Chapel announced the time of death. _Bones, no! I'm right here. I'm right here! _

Bones gave his wrist one final squeeze before pulling away. "Chapel, let's take him down to sickbay," he ordered, and Jim would've shivered if he could have. He had _never _heard Bones sound so defeated before--not even on the nights where he'd had to track the older man down at a decrepit bar somewhere to jerk him from memories of the wife and daughter he'd been forced to leave behind.

Though to be honest, on those nights Bones was drunk to the point of almost passing out. Perhaps he was always this morose before the alcohol. Either way, Jim would be just fine if he never heard that tone in Bones' voice again.

The gurney supporting him suddenly jerked, jostling his rib and bringing the nausea back with a vengeance. No one spoke as the gurney was wheeled forward, but Jim was surprised to hear everyone in the transporter room following him out.

They didn't all need to come. So why were they?

The unseen world around him spun every time the gurney rounded a corner in the corridor, and the slow but steady movement caused air to flow over his bare chest, making him even colder than he already was. At the moment, he'd do pretty much anything for a blanket or a mug of coffee.

Although if he had to choose one thing he absolutely wanted, he'd definitely like to be able to move right about now so he could stop this somber procession. Between the steady pace of his crew's footsteps, the lack of conversation, and the occasional sniff from somewhere near his left shoulder, it felt far too much like a funeral march--especially considering the fact that he wasn't really dead. Just completely unable to move and in a _lot _of pain.

The halls were practically empty during Delta shift, so they only passed a few other crew members during the journey to the lift. Jim heard a couple of stifled gasps as he was wheeled into the lift, but no one asked what had happened. He figured the looks on his friends' faces were more than enough to explain the situation.

The turbo lift vibrated for a moment before the doors slid open, and Jim immediately recognized the familiar, medicinal smell of sickbay--which really bothered him when he thought about it. If he wasn't breathing, how could he smell?

"Let's wheel him over to the corner to start the preliminary," Bones said softly. The gurney's path altered slightly before it came to a stop. Then Jim was lifted without any warning, and the following pain and nausea nearly prevented him from registering that he was being transferred onto one of the bio-beds. The mattress was freezing--the temperature regulator must have been turned off, which made sense for a dead body but only made Jim that much more miserable. He'd hoped to at least warm up a little.

"Y'all don't need to stay," Bones declared from someplace near Jim's right hand. "I'll inform you of my preliminary findings when I'm done."

"We need to know what happened," Sulu replied firmly from his position by Jim's feet, and while Jim couldn't see the others, he had a strong feeling they were all nodding in agreement.

Jim half-expected the CMO to angrily order everyone except Chapel out, but instead the older man simply sighed wearily. Jim was even more concerned now--this behavior wasn't like Bones at all.

"Medical log: Stardate 2259.248," Bones stated flatly. Jim heard the quiet whir of the ship's computers as they began recording the doctor's report. "Captain Kirk was beamed aboard after collapsing while on a diplomatic mission on the planet Pilar. Scans indicate the captain was in ventricular fibrillation immediately prior to his return to the _Enterprise_. Repeated attempts by myself and Head Nurse Christine Chapel to revive him, including use of cardiopulmonary resuscitation and defibrillation, failed, and he was declared dead at nineteen-hundred hours. Beginning preliminary autopsy now."

_Whoa, whoa, whoa!_ Jim thought frantically as he heard Bones move closer to the bio-bed, flashes of old crime show holovids filled with depictions of primitive scalpels and saws running through his mind. _You might not believe me, Bones, but I'd really like my heart and lungs to stay _inside _me. _

There was a soft whir of a machine that moved from his head down. "Scans reveal no sign of pre-mortem illnesses or injuries," Bones declared quietly. "Heart tissue scans appear normal. Ribs two, four, and five on the right side are severely bruised, while rib three on the same side has a clean break approximately two inches from the sternum. These injuries are consistent with the consequences of cardiopulmonary resuscitation."

The whirring sound faded. "Chapel, draw three blood samples and begin a full blood panel," Bones ordered.

"Yes, doctor," Chapel replied.

Jim felt the remains of his dress tunic being pulled away, and flinched inwardly when a needle was inserted into his arm. Hands began probing through his hair as the needle slid out again. "No signs of any blunt force trauma to the cranial region," Bones announced.

Then a pair of fingers pried his left eye open, giving Jim a chance to finally _see _something. Bones' face was directly above him, and Jim was shocked at how much the man seemed to have aged since the last time he saw him, only mere hours earlier. His eyes were particularly distressing--they were dull, glassy, and filled with pain. _C'mon, Bones, I'm right here_, he thought desperately. _Look at me! _

Bones released Jim's eyelid, and everything went momentarily dark before his right eye was pried open. Jim saw a flash of anger and despair cross Bones' eyes before they went dead again. "Sclera are normal," he declared, letting Jim's eye close once more.

The fingers moved down to pull Jim's lips away from his teeth. "Gums show no signs of discoloration. Skin is pale, blue-tinged, but the color does not seem to be a result of anything other than the lack of blood flow. There appears to be no outward signs of poisoning."

"He was itching at his neck not long before he collapsed," Sulu offered.

Bones didn't respond verbally. Instead, he gripped Jim's right shoulder and rolled him so he was lying on his left side. The movement jostled the rib, which didn't surprise Jim too much, even though the pain was nearly overwhelming. He'd suffered through broken ribs before and knew all too well how _everything _in the body seemed to connect to the ribs, especially when they were broken.

"No signs of rash or puncture wounds on the neck," Bones said quietly, gently rolling Jim onto his back again. "Back appears free from trauma as well."

"Initial blood scans reveal no signs of abnormalities, sir," Chapel called. "Full results should be available in an hour."

Jim heard Bones sigh deeply. "Based on my preliminary examinations, it appears Captain Kirk died of natural causes," he declared grimly.

_I'm not dead!_ Jim screamed furiously inside his head. _I can hear every damn word you're saying! _

"Tha' cannae be right," Scotty protested. "The lad's nae even thirty!"

"I know!" Bones snapped. "But I'm telling you, nothing's showing up. For all intents and purposes, Jim should still be alive!"

"Perhaps a reasonable elucidation shall be discovered upon a closer examination," Spock suggested. If he could have, Jim would've swallowed at the idea--he was pretty sure a "closer examination" would actually kill him. Not to mention the fact that being cut open would freakin' _hurt_.

"Damn it, man, you actually expect me to cut him open? Right here?" Bones exclaimed. Jim could hear a hint of hysteria lacing his best friend's voice.

"Quite contrary, Doctor," Spock replied in the tone Jim privately called the _you're-being-an-absolute-idiot _voice. He heard that one a lot. "I believe that due to the circumstances of the…" Spock trailed off, and Jim knew he was considering his next words carefully. "Due to the circumstances of Captain Kirk's passing, it would be logical to have the complete autopsy conducted at Starfleet Medical."

Jim heard Bones suck in a deep breath through his nose. "Alright. C'mon, you three, better give you a proper examination, just to be safe," he declared wearily.

Footsteps moved away from the bed as the others followed Bones over to another exam area, leaving Jim alone for the first time since this ordeal began. He strained to listen to what McCoy was finding--he really didn't want anyone else in his crew to have to experience this--but the voices were too soft and too far away for him to catch what they were saying.

He sighed inwardly, feeling restless. He was cold, his chest ached, and he wanted to do nothing more than move his fingers enough to hold a phaser and shoot whoever had decided it would be amusing to do this to him and his crew.

_I don't know what's worse--the fact that I don't know who did this, or the fact that I have no clue how they did it_, Jim mused. Sure, the Pilarians weren't the friendliest people he'd ever encountered, but there had never been any signs of open hostility towards him or the rest of the landing crew. Hell, other than the funky juice that made Scotty sick, Jim had never seen anything that could've been considered a weapon--not even in the plant he and Sulu had toured.

But then, maybe a Pilarian didn't do this to him. After all, Jim was damn sure he saw someone duck behind the warp core manufacturer in the plant--someone with far too much muscle mass to be one of the slender-bodied Pilarians. It had definitely been humanoid, though--he'd seen a distinct five-fingered hand just before the figure had disappeared from sight.

_Th-thump. _

Jim's train of thought crashed to a halt when he heard the sound of his own heartbeat in his ears--the heartbeat no one thought he had. _But I_ do _have it! _he thought frantically._ I do! _

He strained to hear what the others were doing. He still couldn't hear any words, but from what he could hear, it sounded like no one had left yet. _Please, please come back here_, he silently willed. _I still have a pulse! _

Except… he couldn't feel or hear his heart beating any more. Which was beyond odd--why would he hear the heartbeat in his ears when he wasn't even thinking about that, and then not hear it when he was trying to?

Jim snickered to himself. "Beyond odd" was turning into a pretty apt description for this entire trip. When--he refused to think _if_--he regained control of his muscles and they figured out just what was going on here, this trip was definitely going down as the most bizarre mission he'd ever experienced--and that was counting the time the air on a new planet turned everyone's skin bright green.

_Th-thump_.

Jim frowned. He'd definitely felt and heard his heart beat that time. But when he tried to feel it again, there was nothing. Which meant either he only heard his heartbeat when his mind was distracted… or his heart was really beating that slow. It had been at least a minute between the two heartbeats. Jim wasn't a doctor, but he knew enough to know it shouldn't be possible for him to still be alive with his heart pumping that slow. And he couldn't even tell how he was breathing. He never felt any air moving through his nose, and his ribs never expanded to take any air in--something he'd definitely know because of his cracked rib.

_Th-thump_.

As soon as he felt his heartbeat, he started counting off the seconds the way he'd learned as a child. _One Mississippi, two Mississippi_…

His count was thrown off when he heard Bones announce, "Alright, you guys are all cleared."

There was a brief pause before Spock declared, "Return to your stations. There is much we need to do."  
_  
Good job, Spock--keep them moving_, Jim approved silently as he heard the others softly agree. _Don't let them get too caught up in this. I'm not worth that, even if I _were _dead.  
_  
_Th-thump. _

He started counting again, ignoring the sound of the sickbay doors sliding open. Bones and Chapel were talking softly, but he didn't try to listen to their words, instead focusing on counting the seconds between heartbeats.

At sixty-eight Mississippi he felt his heart beat again. He counted once more, reaching seventy Mississippi before the next beat. _So around seventy seconds, give or take a couple seconds, _he decided. _No wonder no one picked up on it. _

"Better pull the partition," Bones declared. Jim heard him walking towards the bio-bed. "Don't need everyone coming in here to gawk."

_C'mon, Bones, don't give up so easily_, Jim mentally shouted as he heard Bones punch a command onto a nearby control panel. _I'm still here! _

There was a whirring sound, which Jim assumed to be the partition Bones had mentioned. Silence fell over sickbay as the whirring faded, and Jim could sense Bones looking at him. _Please, Bones…  
_  
"I'll be in my office, Chapel," Bones suddenly said gruffly, hurrying away from the bio-bed. Jim heard the nurse sigh as the door to the CMO's office slid open and then closed, and Jim sighed inwardly with her.

Chapel's footsteps were soft as she approached. "I'm sorry, sir," she whispered.

Jim would've screamed in frustration if he could have. _You've got nothing to be sorry for--I'm not dead! _

There was a snap of fabric, and a moment later a thin sheet settled over his body. _Oh, you've got to be kidding me! _Jim thought in annoyance as the sheet tickled his nose.

Chapel sighed. "It's just not right," she declared as the fabric was tugged away from his face. She tucked the sheet around his torso, gently tugging his arms out and laying them on top. The movement pulled at his ribs, but Jim ignored it.

"Dr. McCoy would probably accuse me of being sentimental," Chapel commented as she adjusted the sheet and smoothed out the wrinkles. She chuckled softly. "He's not really one to talk, though, is he?"

_Definitely not_, Jim agreed, wishing the sheet would provide more warmth than it currently was.

Slender fingers started combing through his hair. "I'm worried about him, sir," she confessed quietly as she continued to smooth his hair.

_You and me both_, Jim replied silently. While it was nice to have someone actually talking to him, it was extremely frustrating not to be able to respond and quite annoying to know Chapel assumed she was talking to a dead person.

"The medical staff's always known how close of friends the two of you are," Chapel continued. "Were," she amended after a moment. "And I've always worried that something like this would happen. I just… never thought it would be like this."

The fingers in his hair stilled. Chapel's hand lingered for a moment before moving away. "I'll take care of him, sir. I promise."

_I know you will_, Jim thought, listening as the nurses footsteps retreated away. He knew from first-hand experience that Chapel was as bad, if not worse than Bones at acting like a mother hen.

And as frustrated as Jim was at the moment, it was surprisingly reassuring to know that someone was going to watch after his best friend if he didn't manage to recover.

"_Attention_, Enterprise," Spock suddenly announced over a ship-wide message. "_This is Acting Captain Spock. I regret to inform you that shortly before nineteen hundred hours today, Captain Kirk collapsed while conducting diplomatic business on the surface of Pilar. Despite the medical team's best efforts, he passed away shortly thereafter_."

There was a long pause, and Jim really wanted to bang his head against something in frustration. _I. Am. Not. Dead! _

"_I have discussed our situation with Admiral Christopher Pike. He has ordered the _Enterprise _to return to Earth immediately_," Spock continued, and Jim felt his heart sink. They'd already told Pike?

How on earth was he going to get himself out of this mess when he couldn't move and everyone thought he was dead?

_"Given our current location and planned speed, we should arrive in four days. Spock out." _

That statement made Jim frown internally. Their current location wasn't all that far from Earth--at Warp Four, it would take less than two days to get there. So why was Spock planning on taking four?

The _swish _of doors sliding open was momentarily distracting, and Jim listened to the familiar stride as Bones left his office and walked out of sickbay. Jim had a strong feeling that the CMO was heading up to the bridge--probably to meet with Spock.

Spock was planning something. Jim felt a little hope stir within his chest, along with an exceeding amount of frustration. If it was going to take four days for the _Enterprise _to return to Earth, then Spock had to be up to something--which meant he was suspicious about what had happened down on Pilar. It gave Jim hope that maybe his stubborn first officer would figure out what was wrong with him, but it was frustrating to not be able to talk with Spock and find out what he was planning.

On the other hand, the other plus of taking so long to get back to Earth was that Jim now had that much more time to try and beat whatever was keeping him from moving. Jim didn't know a lot about medicine--he left that to Bones--but he knew that poisons eventually passed through the body, provided the person didn't die first. Since Jim wasn't dead, it stood to reason that whatever was affecting him would eventually pass as well.

However, the major problem with that was the fact that his heart rate was so incredibly slow. If his heart was only beating once every seventy seconds or so, Jim figured his blood couldn't be moving all that much. And he knew that if his blood wasn't moving all that much, then it would take a lot longer for the poison to be filtered from his blood and removed to the point where he would be able to move again.

So the big question was: Would four days be long enough for the poison to run its course?  
_  
There's really no choice but to hope so_, Jim decided. Because if it wasn't, no one in Starfleet would ever know that Jim Kirk died at the unsuspecting hands of a medical examiner during autopsy, not in the transporter room of the _Enterprise_.

All of this had to be because of the person Jim had spotted in the Pilarian production plant. Something in his gut told him that if he figured out who that person was, they'd have a much better understanding of what was going on around here--and he'd never doubted his gut instincts before. But as much as he tried, he couldn't place the species of the figure he'd seen. It had definitely been humanoid, but Jim wasn't sure if it was actually _human_--the speed it used to disappear behind the warp core manufacturer suggested it wasn't a typical human, at least.

That didn't really narrow it down, though. Jim hadn't spotted any identifying features other than the general body shape, and all he really knew was that the person was wearing dark clothing.

Although… now that he thought about it, Giten had been quick to chalk it up to Jim's imagination--which was odd, considering the ambassador had stated only a few people were authorized to be in that room. Either the Pilarians weren't all that worried about security (which didn't add up, since the building was one of the main parts suppliers for their starship fleet), or Giten knew a lot more than he was letting on.

Which, as much as Jim was reluctant to jump to conclusions (he'd done that too often at the beginning of their five-year deployment, and it had never ended well), seemed possible, given the Pilarians' shifty behavior, especially during their initial meeting on the planet.

That raised another issue, though--if the Pilarians _were _hiding something, why would they contact Starfleet now? They'd never really shown an interest in joining the Federation before, so why start when there appeared to be some kind of covert scheme going on?

_Unless they were after the _Enterprise _specifically_, Jim thought. As the flagship of Starfleet, the _Enterprise _was a logical target for enemies to go after. She'd completed many successful missions since the _Narada _incident, and Jim was well-aware that his reputation was spreading just as fast as the ship's.

But the possibility that someone had targeted his ship and his crew just because of their reputation made Jim's blood boil. He was admittedly protective of his crew--they were under his command, after all, and it was his job to make sure they traveled through the unknowns of space as safely as possible. He was supposed to _protect _them from tragedy, not be the _cause_ of it.  
_  
Th-thump. _

In the relative silence of sickbay, the beat of his heart sounded incredibly loud in Jim's ears. _What kind of poison can make the victim appear dead when they really aren't? _Jim wondered. He'd read up on several different neurotoxins after they'd rescued Pike from the _Narada _to try and help figure out what was wrong with the then-captain of the _Enterprise_. In all of his research, he'd never found any indication of a known pathogen that could have this kind of effect on the human body. The stronger neurotoxins affected _all _of the muscles, including the heart and diaphragm, which meant that the victim would die without the aid of a ventilator.

And yet here Jim was, completely paralyzed, on no machines, and still alive with a barely beating heart.

The worst part of _that _was he had no idea when he could've been poisoned. Sulu and Spock had eaten the exact same amounts of the exact same food as he had, and no one in the landing party had ever been alone. So when could he have--

The bug bite on his neck, Jim suddenly remembered. Something had stung him on the neck, just below his hairline as he walked back with Sulu. It hadn't hurt much--in fact, it had more itched than anything, and Jim had barely noticed it at the time. He'd been bitten by enough strange bugs in his lifetime to not think anything of it, and he'd figured if there had been any dangerous bugs on the planet, Bones or Spock would've warned him about it.

Unless there was no record of there being any such insects on the planet and no chance of detecting it with the scanners. "_The properties in the soil covering Pilar can often cause strange interferences with interstellar scanners_," one of the Pilarians had said.

Which, now that Jim thought about it, was a piss-poor excuse. He'd never heard of _any _kind of soil being able to interfere with scanners enough to prevent them from detecting buildings several stories tall. Electrical storms and magnetic fields, yes, but soil? No.

And even if that _were _true about Pilar's soil, Jim was damn sure one of the previous diplomatic Federation envoys would have made note of it for future reference--that kind of interference had the potential to create a lot of havoc for a landing party, especially if the planet's population was hostile.

Still, it was possible that this was the result of some strange alien bug, even if the Pilarians were less than trustworthy. Jim snorted inwardly at the thought. That would be his luck--get bit by the one species of alien insect with venom powerful enough to paralyze his entire body.

"I always thought the job would kill ya, Kid," Bones said suddenly, and if Jim were able, he probably would've jumped a foot off the bed. He'd been so lost in his musings that he hadn't heard the CMO approach. Bones sighed. "Just thought it'd be in a blaze of glory, not on some kiss-ass diplomatic mission."  
_  
And that right there should be a sign that something's not right, Bones_, Jim thought wryly. _There's not nearly enough blood. _

"I'm getting too old for this kinda thing," Bones griped as he moved closer to the bio-bed.

_Th-thump. _

The heartbeat was almost deafening as it reverberated in Jim's ears, but much to his chagrin Bones didn't notice, instead grabbing a chair from somewhere and dragging it closer to the bed. Jim waited nervously as he heard Bones sit in the chair. He could feel his friend staring at him, and he had a sinking feeling that he was about to hear things that Bones would never typically say aloud.

"Damn it, Jim," Bones murmured, and the brokenness in that whisper was enough to make Jim worried and pissed off--worried about how Bones was handling this (because obviously he _wasn't_) and pissed off at whoever (or whatever) had injected him with the toxin that put him in this state.

"I'm sorry," Bones whispered just as Jim heard another th-thump. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you."  
_  
You didn't _have _to, Bones, damn it! My heart just beat! I'm still here!_ Jim thought furiously. _Why the hell couldn't you be a mind-reader? _

"God, I'm such a _failure_," Bones breathed, and the despair was enough to make Jim's mind stop ranting. He felt the soft vibration of something resting on the bio-bed. "Couldn't save my father… couldn't save my marriage…" Bones continued, voice filled with bitterness, and Jim would've swallowed if he were able.

Bones was venturing into uncharted territory here. Jim knew how much the older man regretted how his marriage had ended--he saw it every time Joanna sent a message--but he'd never once heard Bones mention his father before.

And really, when he thought about it, it bugged him. Bones was his best friend, but he didn't know squat about the man's past. He'd been curious, sure, but Bones had never wanted to talk about it, and Jim knew better than to push the issue when Bones didn't want to talk about something.

Maybe it was time to change that. Clearly something from Bones' past was haunting him. Bones had helped him deal with his own past more than once--maybe it was time to return the favor.

Jim tried not to think about the possibility he wouldn't have the chance anymore.

Bones sighed a little. "Guess it makes sense I couldn't save you. Seems like I can't save the things that mean the most to me."

Jim vaguely registered the fact that Bones had gripped his wrist, but his mind was racing too much to really notice. He'd gone his entire life thinking that no one could possibly care for him. On one level, he knew his mother loved him, but he also knew that every time she looked at Jim, she thought of the man she'd lost in outer space. Jim had long accepted it, and he'd loved his mother all the same, but… he'd never thought anyone would be all that sad if he'd died.

Apparently he was wrong, and that realization practically floored him.

Then Bones' grip tightened, and Jim suddenly realized where the older man's fingers were placed--right over his pulse point. _Don't let go, Bones--_please _don't let go_, he pleaded silently, frantically trying to figure out how many seconds had passed since his last heartbeat.

"I can't do this again, Jim. I _can't_," Bones whispered, voice thick with emotion. Jim wasn't sure what he meant by "again"--probably something with his father--but he mentally shouted, _You don't have to! Just hold on a few more seconds! Please, let it be only a few more seconds… _

_Th-thump_.

Jim cheered silently when he sensed Bones suddenly stiffen. The fingers holding his wrist shifted slightly. Long seconds passed, and Jim could sense Bones' shoulders slumping. _No!_ he thought frantically when Bones' grip loosened, then inwardly sighed with relief when his friend didn't let go completely. "Damn it," the CMO hissed. "I'm such a--"  
_  
Th-thump. _

_Yes!_ Jim exclaimed mentally as Bones paused mid-sentence, tightening his grip as he shifted again. _I'm still here, Bones. I'm still here! _

As the seconds ticked by, Bones murmured, "This can't be… I must've imagined it again. There's no way…" He trailed off again, but his grip didn't loosen this time, and Jim would've grinned widely if he were able to.

_Th-thump. _

The chair squeaked as Bones stood. The sheet resting across Jim's chest was tugged down slightly, and then he felt his friend press his ear against the skin over his heart again, causing pain to shoot out from his broken rib. "C'mon, Jim," Bones muttered. The CMO's cheek and hand felt uncomfortably warm against his own freezing skin, but Jim ignored it and counted the seconds. …_five Mississippi, six Mississippi…  
_  
_Th-thump._

"Oh my god," Bones breathed as he straightened up.

_Yes! Yes, yes, yes!_ Jim shouted in his mind elatedly. At least now if it took longer than four days for the poison to clear his system, he wouldn't have to worry about getting cut open--no way in hell would Bones let that happen.

He heard the CMO moving around, and suddenly the temperature regulators kicked on. _Bones must've activated the monitor_, Jim thought, grinning inwardly as the bed started warming up his freezing body.

Bones dropped Jim's wrist and took a couple steps away. Jim heard the comm chirp before Bones called, "McCoy to bridge."

"_Spock here_."

"You need to get down to sickbay. Now," Bones declared tersely, and Jim cheered again.  
_  
Yes! Now we're getting somewhere!_ he thought as Bones grabbed his wrist. _This _he might be able to tease Bones about--he was being awfully touchy-feely at the moment.

Although, if their positions were reversed he'd probably be doing the same thing, Jim admitted silently. _Damn it_, he grumbled. _All this blackmail material and I won't even be able to use it. _

_Th-thump_.

"Damn it, Jim," Bones declared, and whatever he'd seen on the monitors must have been good news because Jim could _hear _the grin in his voice.

The turbo lift doors hissed as they slid open, and a moment later, Jim heard Spock's familiar stride. "What have you discovered, Doctor?" Spock queried, a definite trace of confusion in his tone.

The grin was still obvious in Bones' voice as he declared, "Just watch."

The room was silent for a long moment. "I do not understand--"

"Wait for it," Bones ordered, cutting Spock off mid-sentence. Jim laughed inwardly, practically sensing Spock's eyebrow rise. "Just a couple more seconds."

_Th-thump. _

"What… what does this mean?" Spock asked softly.

"He's alive, Spock," Bones replied. "Jim's _alive_."

"How?"

"I don't know," Bones said honestly as Jim thought the same thing. "His heart's only beating once every seventy-two seconds, and I think that's how often he's breathing, too."  
_  
Seventy-two, huh?_ Jim pondered silently. He'd actually been pretty close, then. Not a bad method for keeping short amounts of time--he'd have to remember that for the future.

"It is impossible for a human to survive for long with such vital signs," Spock replied. "And yet…"

"Jim's always tried to do the impossible," Bones finished, and Jim's inward grin widened. "Makes sense he would be doing it now."

There was a pause. "What is the likelihood that this is result of natural causes?" Spock asked.

"Slim to none," Bones replied. Jim felt the fingers wrapped around his wrist tighten. "Someone _did_ poison him," the CMO growled.

"It appears so, Doctor," Spock declared. Judging by the anger Jim could hear in his voice, the Vulcan was _ticked_. "By all outward appearances, the would-be assassin must have used some kind of neurotoxin to create the appearance of death."  
_  
That's what I thought!_ Jim thought in response. The thought made him pause. _Hmm_. _Does that mean Spock's thinking more like me, or that I'm thinking more like him?  
_  
"I can think of four compounds right now that could pass through the standard blood work undetected," Bones affirmed. "Problem is, none of those are meant to last this long. With each one, the patient dies if there's no antidote or some other kind of stimulant administered within an hour."

"It is possible that we are facing an unknown pathogen, as we are currently conducting business with a relatively unknown species," Spock pointed out. There was another pause. "Is it possible to maintain an acceptable level of brain functions when the vital signs are at this state?"

"No," Bones replied, sounding a lot less happy than he had before. "Jim's heart's not beating often enough to send blood moving through his veins, and his respiratory levels aren't high enough to have a healthy amount of oxygen in his blood. And Chapel did a neural scan when we were trying to revive him. There was nothing." He sighed, and Jim felt his wrist drop back to the bed. "Hell, maybe he's just as far away from us as he was when we thought he was dead."

_No, Bones! I'm still here!_ Jim thought furiously. _I'm still right here!  
_  
"There is a way to find out," Spock declared slowly.

There was a moment of silence as both Bones and Jim tried to figure out what the Vulcan met. "_No_, Spock," Bones declared firmly. "I won't allow it."

"Any other scans or tests you may attempt will yield inconclusive results due to whatever pathogen has put Jim in this state," Spock protested. "A mind meld is the quickest way to determine if his mind has been unaffected by these events."

"And what happens if it has?" McCoy shot back, folding his arms. "What happens if Jim's mind is gone and you try and meld with him? What's to stop that from rebounding on you?"

Well, _that _didn't sound promising. But then, Jim knew he was fully conscious, so it shouldn't be a problem.

Unless the toxin could somehow interfere with Spock's abilities. It had obviously interfered with the neural scanner already--as far as Jim knew, the poison could make Spock think he was melding with the mental equivalent of a brick wall. And the chances of _that _affecting Spock both mentally and emotionally were higher than Jim was comfortable with.

Suddenly Jim wasn't sure _what _he wanted to happen. In any other situation, he'd never allow Spock to take the risk--especially not for him. But on the other hand, he really wanted everyone to know that he wasn't really dead so they could get to work on figuring out just what the hell was going on around here.

"I shall be able to detect such a problem before it occurs," Spock replied calmly. "I would prefer to have you remain conscious during this procedure, Doctor, but I am ready to proceed as I feel is necessary with or without your presence."

Jim winced inwardly as he remembered his first encounter with the nerve pinch. _Definitely not the most pleasant of experiences_, he thought.

"I don't like it," Bones growled, and Jim could practically picture the scowl on Bones' face.

"Your disapproval is duly noted, Doctor," Spock answered wryly. There was a moment of silence before Jim suddenly felt Spock's warm fingers pressing against key points on his forehead. "Our minds, one and together," the Vulcan murmured quietly.

And suddenly everything shifted. Jim went from seeing the darkness of his eyelids to a strange combination of that darkness and the last view Spock had seen out of his own eyes--Jim's body lying lifeless on the bio-bed.

Then he felt a familiar consciousness brush against his--warm, dry, much like Vulcan had been during his brief moments on the planet. _Spock? _

A flood of emotions swirled around him--his fear, Spock's despair, his frustration, Spock's anger, and the relief they both felt moved around them, merging into one as Jim felt the other consciousness merge and yet remain separate from his own. This was thankfully much less chaotic than the first time he'd melded with this universe's Spock.

_Jim_, Spock greeted, his voice echoing softly around them. _You are well_.  
_  
Yeah. As well as I can be in this state, anyway. _

_What happened? _

Instead of answering, Jim brought up all of his memories from the moment they'd beamed down to the planet. Spock's curiosity was evident as he watched the replay of events. _Fascinating. You have been aware this entire time? _  
_  
Yeah. Whatever paralyzed me didn't let me fall unconscious. _

_Dr. McCoy may not be pleased to hear that_, Spock thought as the pain of Jim's broken rib and the memories of the electrical surges passed through both of them.

_It wasn't his fault. _  
_  
I never implied it was. That will not change the fact he will not be pleased. _

As Spock continued to examine Jim's memories, the captain caught a glimpse of some of Spock's--his conversation with Pike, the meeting in the conference room, and the discussion with Giten flashed through both their minds. Jim sensed the struggle Spock had endured to try and keep his emotions from overwhelming him. _Awww… you missed me!_

_You are the captain of the _Enterprise_. The loss of your presence is highly detrimental to our mission. _

_Uh huh_, Jim thought wryly as Spock focused on the memory of the figure near the warp core manufacturer. _I have no idea who that could be_, he confessed.

_An external point of view can be helpful at times_, Spock replied thoughtfully as the memory replayed again. _Perhaps we can reach a conclusion together_.

They watched it several more times, each trying to find anything that could help them figure out who it was.

Suddenly they both saw the same thing at the same time. _You've got to be kidding me! _Jim exclaimed as Spock declared, _That is quite illogical.  
_  
Then suddenly everything went black again as Spock terminated the mind meld, and Jim's mind reeled with the revelation they'd just discovered. Spock's hand had slid off his forehead onto the bio-bed, and he could hear the Vulcan panting softly.

"What? What did you see?" Bones demanded.

Jim sensed Spock's hand curl into a fist near his head as the Vulcan grimly declared, "Romulans."

_tbc..._


End file.
